


Ghostie Bois Inc

by Harpie_Raven



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Dream SMP Minecraft, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Credits Page Included, Dream Smp, Ghostie Bois Inc, Ghosty Bois Inc, Music Included, On Wattpad, Sleepy Bois Inc Au, The SMP just owns my soul, ghost au, sleepy bois inc - Freeform, what're tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:27:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 29,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27674693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harpie_Raven/pseuds/Harpie_Raven
Summary: (Based off the SBI AU of amazing artist @thechannelwithoutaname on tumblr {and YouTube!}, all credit to them for the ghost AU!)Tommy and his best friend Tubbo are stoked to learn that there's a place they can 'hide away' all summer. An old house from some part of Tommy's family that one of his aunts agreed to let them stay in. Problem is, there's a sort of 'local legend' going around, that say the house is haunted by the ghosts of the old residents, that died of somewhat questionable circumstances. A house fire, that no one seems to know how it was caused. Tommy and Tubbo aren't at all worried though. Because, ghosts aren't real!...right?
Comments: 127
Kudos: 681





	1. A/N Credits Page

**Author's Note:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3T1K0p0U42M&ab_channel=DeRezzonationM.
> 
> Grim grinning ghosts come out to socialize...

**Hey! Hopefully this is the only A/N on this story!**

**There's just a few people I want to give the proper credit to before I start, and I didn't want to fill up the description box too much, if that makes sense.**

**Let's get into the credits so far!**

**Thechannelwithoutaname on tumblr: The cover art(s) for the story "Ghostie Bois Inc". Thechannelwithoutaname is also credited with the creation of the Sleepy Bois Inc Ghost AU, as well as all art and low key the plot. Like, they wrote out plot basics, and they are so creative. Please check out their pages and things, they are so talented.**

**DeRezzonation M.: The amazing guitar cover of "Grim Grinning Ghosts" that will be placed at the start of each chapter. They're on YouTube, check them out--their channel's awesome!**

**(why is it at the start of each chapter? Cause Wilbur liked guitar...and the idea of a ghost Wilbur playing this makes me happy and is so work-with-able XD XD).**

**Just--look up "Ghosty Bois Inc" on Tumblr to see the source material for things--this AU is just genius in my opinion, and I love it.**

**"Sleepy Bois Inc" is originally by streamers/minecraft...ers, Ph1lza Minecraft, Wilbur Soot, Technoblade, and TommyInnit, though Tubbo's also in here, and I don't think he was an official member of it--but still! Real people, and super talented at that.**

**Hmm...I think that's the end of the credits? I just really wanted to make sure that I gave credit where it was due :) Oh! And quick thing--there's no shipping here. I don't ship any of these guys together, there's just gonna be a crap ton of family-feels!**

**Now FINALLY without further delay, I present: "Ghostie Bois Inc", fanfic by Harpie_Raven**


	2. Prologue: The Door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Prologue contains description of death
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3T1K0p0U42M&ab_channel=DeRezzonationM.
> 
> Grim grinning ghosts come out to socialize...

"Can't believe he actually fell asleep," Wilbur was leaned over the stairway rail and snickering slightly at the realization. Techno never fell asleep, well, he had a really messed up sleep schedule at any rate, so when he'd asked where he was and Phil had replied 'sleeping', it was something new.

The only slightly older brother rolled his eyes and nodded, sitting himself down onto the sofa. "Yes, he's actually asleep," he said. He set down a steaming cup of tea and gave Wilbur a leveling look reserved supremely for fathers (big brother or not, it was Phil, so what was the difference?). "And don't you dare wake him up," he said.

Wilbur sighed dramatically and nodded his head. "Alright, I'll be quiet," he said and gave his 'dad' a little smile. "You'll just be down here if I need you, yeah?" He double checked.

Phil nodded. "Yep, and hopefully done with this book by whenever you check in," he said and cast a look to the paperback on the coffee table. "I'm almost done with it, and you will be hearing a detailed rant if something goes horribly wrong," he said it like a promise.

"Looking forward to it," He readjusted his glasses before they slipped off the bridge of his nose, seeing as he still had himself draped over the railing. He pulled himself back up to a standing position and stretched out his back a little, leaning from side to side. "Well, in case I don't come back down, 'night Phil," he told him. He received a wave and gave one back, walking back up the stairs.

Wilbur paused in front of Techno's room, leaning back a little bit to see through the cracked door. Sure enough, there was a lump in the bed, unmoving aside from a slight up and down of breathing. "Huh," Wilbur mumbled to himself and shrugged, walking back to his own room from there.

Once he'd made it back to his room, he'd gently closed the door. Normally, he would have left it open, the lock was buggy and it sometimes froze on him, which wasn't good in situations where he wanted to leave his room quickly for dinner or something. Either way, he was going to be editing one of his new songs together, and since his room was close to Techno's, he didn't want to wake him by accidently singing too loudly.

Wilbur grabbed his guitar from beside the door, strumming it lightly as he walked over to his desk area. He liked this new song, well, he liked all his songs, but he had a good feeling about this one. He was so close to coming up with a whole album, and if things went his way, he'd be getting noticed sometime soon. With that hopeful little thought, he slid into his desk chair and powered up his PC, looking forward to the outcome of the editing process.

Downstairs, Phil had to resist the urge to throw his book to the wall. "That's ridiculous," he said aloud to no one in particular, that so called 'plot twist' made no sense. He blew a disappointed raspberry and leaned back further into the couch, dropping the traitorous book onto his stomach. He looked at the ceiling, if he thought hard enough about it, he would be able to map out the entire second story just inside his head. First was his room, all the way far off to the left, it was peacefully a nice distance from Wilbur's room. Not to be mistaken, Phil loved Wilbur's music, it just wasn't the best thing in the world whenever the younger boy got a random bout of inspiration at three am that just needed to be put into immediate production. Techno wasn't so loud, and Phil thought the compromise of having him be in the middle was a nice one. Really, the only thing Phil found himself wondering about Techno at three am was why he was awake.

He blinked and leaned even further back, taking his hat off his head to admire it a moment. He could still remember, very easily, the Christmas that he'd been gifted the hat by the boys. It'd been a really nice gift, they'd seemed kind of nervous to give it to him. Wilbur had later explained that he and Techno were unsure if he was actually like the hat, seeing as it was that and only that from them. But Phil had loved it, and he still did to that day. It was a very genuine gift, and he honestly loved it more than anything. He always tried to think about sort of thing, with the other two around, someone had to be the voice of reason.

Phil yawned and settled into the cushions one more time, placing his hat over his eyes. He didn't feel like leaving the downstairs area and decided to just sleep down there instead. He could only slightly hear the sound of Wilbur's guitar, and smiled a little. He did love his boys. 

A few summers ago, the three had gone camping. It'd been reasonably quiet out in the woods, the stars had actually been visible in the night sky and adding a bit of magic to the forest. They had found a nice camping spot, and Techno had claimed himself "King of the Rock" many times that weekend. They'd hiked around, been down to the lakes, even raided the liquor store of the nearby town for some snack items and wooden sticks for s'mores. Later their first night there, Phil showed the two how to make an actual campfire, since both boys were arguing over the techniques, and they were both wrong. The three had successfully set up a flame, and celebrated with gooey marshmallow-chocolate treats that night. The fire had been decently sized, and gave off puffs of grey-black smoke. Wilbur had gotten some in his eyes and complained about the burning for a good ten minutes, after a while Phil had told him that was the least amount of burning a fire could do if they weren't careful. Even when they went to sleep that night, the scent of fire stayed in the wind with them all night long, a very significant smell of heat.

A very noticeable scent of heat, that felt far too palpable for a memory that Phil was thinking of in his sleep.

He shifted slightly, frowning as he took a sniff from the air. It smelled like smoke, like a campfire was nearby. More than nearby, he realized as he began to wake up more, it felt like there was a campfire nearly beside him. Like there was a campfire in the house. He felt worried for a second, before a still sleepy part of his mind told him that it was probably just Wilbur or Techno starting up the fireplace. He fell back into some ease after hearing the crackling of flames and the smell of smoke to confirm this theory. He decided against getting up, until a realization struck him like lightning a moment later. That was the old house, this one had no fireplace.

Phil sat up immediately, hat tumbling off his face and rolling under the coffee table. He looked around instantly, jaw dropping when he saw what had happened. Orange red flames licked the walls of the kitchen, it was completely ablaze and spreading quickly into the living room. "Boys!" He yelled instantly, making a beeline for the stairway. The flames were catching quickly and he couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if he didn't wake up sooner. The corner of the couch he'd been laying on was already going up in flames.

Phil ran up the stairs as quickly as he could, smoke was already rising quickly to the second layer of the house. He scrambled across the stair platform and up the much smaller second flight. Was it just his imagination or was the fire getting larger and faster? "Boys!" He shouted again, and his breath caught in his throat, making him cough. Who knew how long he'd been inhaling the smoke-tainted air before he'd woken up.

He could feel it stinging his eyes as he ran down the hall to their rooms, rushing into Techno's space first, the door was open and it was the closest. "Techno!" He shouted and rushed over to the bed. The boy didn't really sleep, but damn did he sleep like the dead when he did. He grabbed onto Techno and began shaking like a madman, looking over his shoulder periodically to check where the flames were. He could start to see the hue of orange out of the far, far corner of his eye, and the smoke was only getting thicker. "Techno, wake up!" He yelled.

"W-Wha?" He startled awake, pink hair flopped all around his face. Techno quickly rubbed his eye before turning to look at Phil, a frown evident on his face. "What is it man, I was having a good--" he started, and faltered after seeing the expression on Phil's face.

"Techno, we have to go," Phil started, terror etched onto his features. "We have to go, right now." He pulled him out of the bed forcefully, quickly, in order to get them out to safety. The blanket of smoke had risen and covered most of the ceiling at this point, Techno thought he was in a nightmare. Surely he hadn't just been woken up by this, right? He felt Phil's hand grab at his wrist and pull him towards the door.

The two burst out into the hallway, looking both ways in a frantic hurry. Techno still felt half asleep, but was waking up very quickly. "Wilbur!" Phil yelled, and ran to the left, pulling Techno with him. "Wilbur we have to go!" He shouted.

For a long moment neither of them could hear anything coming from the other side of the door. Its wooden face was blankly staring at them with no sign from the third brother, and despite the heat Phil felt ice settle in his veins. "Wilbur!" He yelled and slammed his fist against the door.

Finally a sound, coughing coming from beyond the door. "Help!" Wilbur yelled, and the door bounced slightly with the thuds of his hands smacking against it. "Help me! The door, the door's jammed!" He said frantically. From inside the room, Wilbur thought his lungs would burst. They ached and burned, even though he'd opened a window, the smoke had settled heavily inside his room. He'd considered jumping out the window, but looking out there had only revealed more fire along the ground, and fast rising smoke. He'd run back to the door and tried his hardest to open it, but that stupid buggy lock. The door wouldn't open.

"Help me!" He pounded his hands against the door again and tried once more to twist the knob to open it, the knob barley moved an inch, the door still stuck shut. He could barley hear the sound of Phil and Techno on the other side of the door. He once again tried to slam the door open, spluttering past his coughing. "T-Techno! Phil! Help me!"

Phil was assaulting the door. He was kicking it, ramming against it, anything he could do to get it open. Techno had offered to go grab something to pry it open, and had since left Phil's side. He tried once again to get the door open, his eyes blurred from tears caused by both the smoke and the fear that they were going to die.

It wasn't the first time in the past few minutes that he'd thought with terrifying certainty that he and his family were going to die. But...that couldn't be it, right? If not him, then most certainly the boys had great futures ahead of them. Techno was top of his fencing class, and Wilbur was on his way to being a star. He couldn't just let them die and lose all of that, lose their lives that they hadn't even really started living yet. But...he didn't see a way out. Downstairs was shrouded with smoke and flame, and they couldn't even free Wilbur from his room.

"Techno?" Phil called as loudly as he could, his voice was turning raspy. There was no answer. "Techno?" He called louder.

What he did not expect in response was a gruntled scream followed by a crash. Phil's eyes widened, he could barley even hear Techno. "I'm stuck!" He shouted. And Phil noticed something different in his voice than Techno's usual sarcastic monotone. Fear.

"Techno?" He called out, head swivling back and forth from Wilbur's door to down the smoke-infested hallway. He ran forward to go get Techno, stopping when he heard Wilbur's harsh coughing, him yelling for either Techno or him to help him. Phil was stuck in the middle of the hallway, unsure of who to go save and how to even do it. He started hacking, it was getting so hard to breathe, as Wilbur was relaying through the door ("help, I can't breathe!")

As he stood in the hallway, Phil came to a sudden and bone chilling realization.

Him and his boys were going to die.

He didn't hear sirens, he didn't even know if anyone had called the fire department. Phil found himself struggling to breathe and unsure of what to do next. Wilbur's calls for help had faded out into coughs and a loud thump from his room, and Techno had since stopped responding all together. Somehow Phil knew it already, even as he himself was falling to the ground and wheezing out short breaths. He could already tell that they were both just about gone, his 'boys', his little brothers. And that he was going next.

If anyone asked he wouldn't have known when he'd collapsed to the ground, losing consciousness fast. He hoped, that if anything, if anyone at all came to save them, they were able to save Wilbur and Techno first. He just hoped someone would break the news to Kristin gently. He hated the idea, but he knew it was already true, they weren't getting out.

His little brothers were dead. And within a few more minutes he could just tell, that he was too.


	3. Chapter One: A Nice Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3T1K0p0U42M&ab_channel=DeRezzonationM.
> 
> Grim grinning ghosts come out to socialize

"I can't anymore, nope, nope, nope." Tommy slammed his head onto the desk for what could have very well been the third time that hour. He stayed against the wooden surface, not bothering to move any of the papers underneath his cheek--he hated them anyway. It was almost summer break after all, he couldn't wrap his head around why he had so much work in that case. It was beginning to get annoying, and visibly so.

"Can't what?" Someone asked behind him. Toby Smith, or 'Tubbo' as he preferred to be called, was Tommy's best friend and roommate, so whenever the blond was annoyed, it was pretty easy for him to deal with...or, it was most of the time anyway. He leaned back in his chair ever so slightly in order to look over at him more.

"School!" Tommy threw his hands up into the air and kept his face planted on the desk. "I am so annoyed with it all, I mean honestly, can we not anymore?" He asked and closed his eyes in a slight pout. He stayed like that for a little while more until he heard a small laugh, quickly being covered up. His eyes opened again and instantly narrowed at the boy across the room. "What's so funny?" He asked.

Tubbo shook his head, hand pressed against his mouth. "Oh, oh, nothing." He waved it off, but was very obviously amused.

"You're laughing at me Tubbo," Tommy frowned, and very overdramatically leaned back in his chair. "I feel betrayed! I'm suffering over here, and all my so-called 'life long friend' can do is watch my agony, and laugh at me!" He declared.

That was the final straw for Tubbo's ability to keep silent, and he did in fact start laughing. "Oh my gosh, stop being so dramatic!" He said, shaking his head. "It's just a little more work, and besides, it's almost over," he reminded him.

Tommy sighed. He supposed that was true. "Oh alright," he said and shook his head. "You're, you are very lucky I am in a forgiving mood today Tubbo, laughing at me like that..." He clicked his tongue and shook his head again. Tubbo rolled his eyes and looked back to his desk. Though, he was now thinking about something else.

"Hey, Tommy?" He asked and looked away again from his space.

"Yeah?"

"What're we gonna do when school's over anyway?" He asked, and watched as Tommy's expression turned thoughtful.

"Hmm, I dunno. Whatever we want I guess, you got a plan or somethin'?" Tommy asked him and silently hoped that if Tubbo did, it wasn't anything involving bees. Last summer there'd been a man with a honey farm that he showed off, and Tubbo had practically begged Tommy to go with him. Needless to say, if Tommy ever saw another bee on his arm, it would be too soon.

Tubbo shook his head. "Not really, I was just thinking we could hang out somewhere peaceful or something," he explained.

Tommy snorted. "Peaceful...you're not getting any peace so long as I'm there!" He declared proudly.

"You know what I meant! Peaceful-ish. Away from here so we don't even have to think about school until late August," Tubbo added to his idea so Tommy had more of an idea what he was thinking of.

Tommy nodded, bouncing his leg beneath his desk. "That does sound nice..." he said, glancing somewhat sourly at the papers once again. His laptop sat open on the surface of the desk, an essay halfway written and left alone. It'd been left alone for so long that it had recently slipped into screensaver mode. As cliché as it was, the slideshow was of photos from Tommy's camera roll. Places he'd been with Tubbo, random selfies taken for fun, family photos. Despite sometimes denying feeling a certain way, he would admit to himself that those photos did make him happy. They reminded him of people he cared about.

It had just been a photo Tubbo taken when the two had gone into the ocean together. They'd been on a small paddle boat, though Tubbo did most of the steering of it, Tommy was exaggerating the whole time. He watched as the photo changed to a calmer one, when he and his family had a nice Christmas party for the holidays. It'd been cold, but the general mood of the whole event was fast in bringing up the heat. Seeing his family and remembering the occasion made him feel less stressed...and also gave him an idea.

"Hey, Tubbo!" He blurted and startled the other boy who had thought that the conversation had ceased.

"Yes?" He asked once he'd gathered himself again.

"Why don't I ask my mum or something if she knows anywhere we can go?" He asked and looked away from the laptop. "She's good at planning this sorta stuff," He said.

Tubbo nodded and smiled, that idea didn't seem like a bad one at all. "Go for it! Tell her I say 'hi' though when you do it," he said.

Tommy agreed to the terms given and stood up, leaving behind the schoolwork to dial his mother. 

Weeks had passed since Tommy had contacted his mother. It's not that she hadn't replied to his message, she had merely expressed how she'd need some time to find something for the boys to do. School felt like a drag past those weeks. Tommy and Tubbo both worked feverishly to finish their exams and work, days passing over and over again in a repeating cycle. At long last, it was over though.

"Freedom!" Tommy exclaimed and threw himself onto his bed. The mattress groaned with the impact, but he refused to move from it. "Wemph an mive!" He exclaimed, facedown in a pillow and muffled.

"What?" Tubbo asked, chuckling to himself as he closed the door. He looked around the room and leaned over, flipping the light switch on and covering the room in a soft orange light.

Tommy lifted his head from the pillow, hair pressed against his forehead. "We can live!" He declared happily, and flopped down onto his back. "Now we just need a plan," He said.

As if on cue, his pocket vibrated with a text alert, and his hand sprung to it instantly to check. He sat up and looked down at the screen. His face lit up and he nodded his head, looking up to Tubbo. "Aye, guess what?" He asked.

"Something good?" The brunet inquired, stretching his arms over his head.

"Something great, Tubbo my buddy, my pal," Tommy said and hopped up from the bed, landing on his feet. He proudly walked over to his friend and stuck his arm out, showing the phone screen close to Tubbo's nose.

The screen, albeit difficult to read for Tubbo both because of dyslexia and its closeness, was lit up in a text message chat. A link had been sent, showcasing the front of a house neatly photographed and a bottom caption. The caption read 'booked! Enjoy your stay!'. "That's...a good thing?" Tubbo asked and gave a shaky smile, trying to infer the meaning of the text.

"Yes it's a good thing Tubbo! We've got a summer getaway now!" Tommy explained and took his phone back. "Apparently this house is empty, something about some town superstition or something lame like that. My mum actually booked it out because of some family tie or something!" He said.

"No way, really?" Tubbo asked and smiled. "Wow, that's awesome, tell your mom thanks!" He said and nodded his head.

"Oh, I will," the other boy nodded and rushed to the shared closet. He pushed aside the door and began rummaging the top shelf. He shoved some old clothing out of the way and grabbed a suitcase, swinging it down and tossing it to the ground. "But now—we pack!" He said.

"Seems like a logical thing to me." Tubbo said and shrugged, humming to himself a little as he went to retrieve his own suitcase from the closet.

The boys chatted for hours as they packed, the sun dipping lower into the sky bringing the forever lasting promise of night—and the new day's adventure to greet them soon. 

Tubbo hadn't really known what to expect when they arrived at the small town of L'Manburg. The name itself gave it a sort of odd aura that didn't really make sense, but he wasn't bothered by it. The bus ride over hasn't been too horrible, and the landscape along the way had given him some great things to think about. The transition from countless trees along an open terrain to a small-ish town had actually seemed somewhat normal.

L'Manburg wasn't insanely small, but it didn't seem to be large either. There were shops and houses, diners and laundromats—the staples, he would summarize. Tommy hadn't hesitated to suggest food the moment the boys arrived in town—and Tubbo's stomach wasn't about to argue with that logic.

They'd settled themselves down in the first diner that they saw, Tubbo had double checked that they had all their things multiple times, though Tommy had insisted that he needed to stop worrying. This conversation continued on until they received their meals.

"You think this'll be a nice place to stay for the summer?" Tubbo asked as he looked around. The diner has long dangling lights from the ceiling and dark wooden booths, it seemed simple and at the same time aesthetically pleasing. The one thing that confused him though was how the walls jutted out in random rectangular button-like-blocks.

Tommy nodded as he put a forkful of food into his mouth. "Mmhmm," he nodded and swallowed. "Seems nice. Could maaaaybe use a bit more chaos. And women. But hey—who knows, we haven't been here long," he said.

There was no arguing with that logic, Tommy did have a point. Maybe not about the women, but Tubbo wasn't about to correct his friend in that field. "Hey, you guys need anything?" A friendly sounding voice asked. Tubbo turned his head to see an older guy standing next to the table. He had brown-reddish hair and wore a waiter's outfit; but the thing that got Tubbo's attention were the guy's headphones. One; that he was even wearing headphones, and two, that they had attachments at the top that looked like fox ears.

"What's with the ears?" Tommy asked him, tilting his head.

The waiter, 'Fundy' his name tag read, chuckled and shook his head. "They're just my thing—everyone knows that. I take it you guys aren't from around here then, huh?" He asked.

"All that from us not knowing about the ears?" Tubbo asked and looked at Tommy, who looked just as confused as he was.

"No sillies, you guys have suitcases under the table and I've never seen you before in my life," Fundy explained.

"...oh. That makes more sense," Tommy said and showed sudden interest in his food.

"You got us, we're new. Actually we're staying here for the summer in a place Tommy's mom was nice enough to book," Tubbo said, being friendly. "By the way, I'm Tubbo, that's Tommy."

Fundy nodded his head, fox ears bobbing along. "Nice to meet 'cha. I didn't know we had anymore houses up for booking, where're you guys staying?" He asked. "If you don't mind my asking."

Tubbo looked to Tommy to answer that one, he didn't want to try and read the address aloud. Picking up on the subtle hint, Tommy leaned back against the back of the booth, and fished his phone from his pocket. He pulled up the address on his phone. "1242 Artic Drive," he answered.

Fundy visibly paled a little. "You're...staying in the Watson house?" He asked them, somewhat slowly.

"That's the title? Jesus, sounds like a horror movie," Tommy said, nodding his head to his own statement.

"What's so bad about the Watson house?" Tubbo asked Fundy, looking to Tommy and then back to the waiter.

Their new acquaintance shifted somewhat uncomfortably, looking to the left. "I think that there's some other patrons I'm supposed to be checking on," he told them. "It was nice to meet you boys. Hopefully we can talk again soon," he told them and gave them a little nod before leaving their table.

"...that was weird," Tubbo said and watched Fundy go.

"Yeah, tell me about it. Though...now I am really interested to see our 'summer home'," Tommy said, and gave Tubbo a very Tommy-grin. "Wanna get to-go boxes and split?" He asked.

Despite the fact that he was somewhat apprehensive, Tubbo nodded. "Let's do it," he said.

Two to-go boxes and a hike through the two later, the boys had started to get close to their destination. "What do you think it is that has people so worked up about this place?" Tommy asked as they pulled their bags up. "Also—what is this, like, the last house they built or whatever?" He asked, somewhat annoyed by the distance.

"Who knows, maybe," Tubbo said, smiling down at a bee he'd seen on a pink flower. "Maybe that's why people don't like it."

"Maybe," Tommy said as they finally made it to the end of their walk. "Oh finally!" He exclaimed, putting his bag down and resting his hands on his hips.

The house before them was tall, two stories tall with an obvious attic. The outside looked rustic and wooden, some wind chimes hanging from the porch-light above a mahogany door. The surrounding area, unlike the other houses, had much patchier green-life. Some growing bushes and large patches of grass littered the perimeter of the house, but all in all, it looked good. Oddly, peaceful.

"Well Tubbo," Tommy started and smiled. "I think this is going to be a summer full of potential," he said and looked over at his friend. "Don't you?" He asked.

Tubbo was looking at a window. It was covered with cream colored curtains, but they'd moved to the side as though there was a breeze from the closed glass. "Yep," he said, shaking it off as a 'Tubbo moment'. "I think this is gonna be a cool summer. This is a nice place."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want Fundy's headphones, ngl--


	4. Chapter Two: Weird Noises And A Newspaper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3T1K0p0U42M
> 
> Grim grinning ghosts come out to socialize...

"This place is poggers!" Tommy declared as he and Tubbo entered the house. They were carrying their bags into the foyer and taking a look around. Tubbo did have to agree with Tommy, it looked really nice inside. 

The foyer shifted into a small decently-narrow hallway, a new looking carpet spreading out into a living room at the end. The whole house immediately seemed new and refurnished, albeit slightly dusty and unused. The living room lead out sideways to a kitchen dining room hybrid, and the far left wall had a staircase set that split off near the top and turned to the left. "It's so big," Tubbo commented as he set down his bags, looking around the living room. There was a couch and a coffee table, all the staples you would expect. The only thing that made him slightly uncomfortable was the lack of...life, that the room, and house, gave off. It felt cold and empty. 

"And it's all to ourselves for a whole summer!" Tommy practically shouted this as he unceremoniously tossed his bag into the nearby wall. It collided with the wood and dropped to the ground, blowing up just a little bit of dust in its wake. Tommy didn't seem to notice as he zipped into the adjoining kitchen, quick to check out as much as he could. "Isn't this awesome Tubbo?" He called.

"Oh, it totally is!" Tubbo called after him, careening his neck up a little to see up the staircase. He glanced towards the kitchen once before starting to head up the stairs. They creaked, ever so slightly, but like there was some damage ever present underneath all the new upgrades. Tubbo couldn't help but thinking the entire house gave off that aura as he headed up the stairway. 

He'd made it to the first 'platform' right before the last small flight of steps before he stopped. He suddenly felt cold, a deep icy feeling rushing into his bones. He wrinkled his nose at the unwelcome feeling and looked around. He was wearing a green polo shirt and shorts--because it was summer, it was warm out and L'Manburg had proven to be no exception to these weather conditions. He knew it was rather warm outside, but for a brief moment, he felt like maybe he'd been plunged outside in a snowstorm. 

As fast as the feeling had come, it vanished, leaving Tubbo to believe maybe he'd imagined it. But, how do you imagine a feeling so intense? He shook it off--again, it was probably just his imagination...somehow. 

He headed up the few steps and looked side to side down another hallway. The upstairs was obviously intended to be more of a living space, though just like the rest of the house it carried an empty feeling. Tubbo could see a few doors, three on the front facing wall and one near where he stood. The ones farthest to the left of the hallway and in the middle were both shut, as was the one near Tubbo. But the last door all the way to the right was left open, light filtering from a window inside out into the hallway.

There was a sound. Very quiet--was that a bird? It sounded to smooth to be a bird, but it didn't sound like a natural sound either. He leaned forwards a little to see if he could pinpoint where it was coming from. Tubbo would admit...it was a little creepy.

"BOO!" Tubbo screamed and jumped a good couple centimeters in the air. He whirled around to see Tommy behind him, covering his mouth as he laughed at his friend's reaction.

"Tommy! That wasn't funny!" Tubbo said, putting a hand to his chest. He narrowed his eyes and tried to recompose himself, looking at his friend.

"I'm sorry, you just looked so easy to scare! You--Tubbo, c'mon, you were standin' by the staircase looking around ominously, that's an easy prank!" Tommy attempted to defend himself, still snickering off the last of his amusement. After finally calming down, he gave a sigh and pursed his lips. "Seriously though, what's wrong--you okay Big Man?" 

Tubbo nodded. "Mmhmm, it was nothing," he told him and looked down the hallway. "I think these might be the rooms though, so we should--" he started, and was cut off. 

Tommy practically flew past him, sprinting towards the middle room. "I call top bunk!" He shouted excitedly.

"Tommy I don't think there are bunk beds--and there are three rooms!" Tubbo protested, but he ran after his friend anyway. 

Tommy flung open the middle room door wide open and almost instantly deflated. "Aw man," he sighed upon seeing that Tubbo was indeed right. There was no bunk bed, only some dust waiting to greet them in an otherwise normal-looking room. A desk in one corner, new, and a bed in the other--also new. There seemed to be no personal belongings of any sort in the bedroom, a bookshelf completely devoid of books could tell anyone that. "This looks sad," Tommy expertly noted.

"Yeah...gonna have to agree with you on that one," Tubbo nodded, looking around the room. It was dusty, not horribly but enough to tell that this place had been redone completely new, and then utterly forgotten. The whole house seemed that way actually, when Tubbo thought of it. He glanced at Tommy. "There are two other rooms though...wanna check them out?"

Tommy nodded. "Oh heck yeah--maybe one of 'em'll have a decent bunk bed," he said, persisting on his quest to find one. He moved away from the middle door, leaving it slightly ajar before pulling on the hand of the one on the far left. Both boys stuck their heads into the room and looked around. There were curtains over the window in this one, unlike the other one, making it hard to see. Hard to see, but not completely impossible to see that this one was just like the other. New, but forgotten. 

"This one also seems sad," Tubbo frowned, and went to go walk to the last one before he noticed Tommy wasn't following him. He turned around and frowned when he noticed Tommy had entered the room. "Everything okay?" He asked and walked over. 

Tommy had walked into the room and was standing near the bed, tilting something in his hands. When he heard Tubbo come over, he turned around. "I found a hat," he said, holding up what he'd found. It was a green bucket hat with white stripes, in surprisingly good condition. It didn't seem dusty at all, and it didn't seem new either, like everything else around. 

"Where'd ya get that?" Tubbo asked, looking at the hat. 

Tommy shrugged and set the hat back down onto the sheets of the bed. "On the bed I guess," He said and looked back to Tubbo. "Didn't see it for a second and then I noticed it was there."

Tubbo shrugged as well, though he had to agree with Tommy--he hadn't seen the hat either. "It seems like it's in pretty good condition, maybe someone accidentally left it here?" He suggested.

"Maybe," Tommy said and started to leave the room. "Just hope the fella--or gal--or they," he waved his hands about in the air. "I just hope whoever it belongs to doesn't barge in here demandin' it back or whatever."

"Agreed," Tubbo said and walked out with Tommy. "Also, I'm pretty sure that's illegal. I'm a lawyer after all," he finished with a smile, laughing along with Tommy when the joke clicked.

"Yeah, yeah--I know! Now, c'mon Big Law, our bags ain't gonna put themselves away!" Tommy once again dashed off, sprinting down the stairs. Tubbo smiled and raced down after him, determined to get down there first. Even though he hadn't, and was enjoying the 'argument' he and Tommy were having about their race, he couldn't shake it.

As he's been running, he'd felt cold again. 

Tommy had decided he was calling dibs on the center room, and Tubbo had said he'd preferred the room on the right. The third on the left with the hat was left untouched--but Tommy figured it was a good insurance policy, for when they made friends or possibly had women over.

He was getting his bags situated in the room, laying his stuff on the bed and hanging what he could currently hang in the closet. It seemed fine, everything was going to be--though he'd never admit it to Tubbo--peaceful this summer. He knew he promised anarchy and anything in between, but he honestly just wanted a break. He and Tubbo deserved a break, he felt like maybe they could have one. He thought about this as he hung one of his shirts in the closet and froze slightly.

Silently he prayed to Prime that he hadn't just jinxed it.

What was he saying, of course he didn't.

The small argument in his brain flip-flopped back and forth like an odd ping pong match for a few moments before he just decided to continue what he was doing. That didn't last long though, he began to look around the room instead. 

He made a few mental notes as he looked, like maybe deal with the dust soon--and even invest in a portable heater. It seemed silly to need one for the summer, but as he was looking inside the drawers (empty) of the desk, he felt a freezing chill. He'd be damned if he had to deal with that as he slept. 

Just as he was shaking off the random cold spot and closing the drawer, he heard a noise. It was faint at first, and he decided to just ignore it, until it happened again. And again, only slightly louder. "...Tubbo?" Tommy asked, not necessarily loudly, but if Tubbo were waiting to strike revenge from earlier, then would be the time. 

There was no verbal answer, only the noise again. It was coming in patterns, notes, Tommy realized. It sounded like a song. A short and slow song possibly played on a guitar--Tommy knew nothing about guitars, but even he could tell the poor thing needed tuning. 

It was probably just Tubbo messing around with something he'd found, nothing at all to be concerned with. Tommy released a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. He didn't know why he was holding it either--it wasn't like he was scared or anything. "Alright Tubbo, you can just mess around with that for a bit," He decided, shrugging his shoulders and going back to looking around. 

"Mess around with what for a bit?" Tubbo asked, making Tommy nearly jump from his skin. He was standing on the platform of the stairs, his bee-striped duffle bag over his shoulder. 

"That...wasn't you?" Tommy asked, in reference to the musical notes...which had stopped. Tubbo looked confused, staring at Tommy since he could see directly into the room from the stairs. 

"What wasn't me?" He asked, looking behind him back down to the living room. "I was putting my snacks away in the fridge and getting my bags," he explained. 

Tommy frowned, and looked around again for a moment to no avail. "...nothing," he said and shrugged. "Probably just a bird or something," he said. Though he had no idea what type of bird made that noise. 

Tubbo shrugged as well, climbing up the stairs and heading towards 'his' room. "Probably, who knows," he said as he entered, tossing his bag onto the bed. He frowned when dust was kicked up from the impact, and swatted it away with his hand. 

He stuck his head out of the room and frowned. "Hey Tommy, this place is filthy. Think we can take a quick break and look for some cleaning rags or something?" He asked, and headed over to the other's room. 

Tommy nodded, already ahead of Tubbo and searching the bathroom--the room that had been beside the staircase. "I was just about to do that," Tommy said as he looked under the sink. "You check the kitchen, I'll be down in a minute."

The kitchen, though pleasing to the eyes, did not seem very useful. It didn't have any cleaning supplies around, and the cabinets were loose. Each time Tubbo closed one, it just got knocked back open a second later, creaking on its hinges to let him know that it was open once again. It was kind of annoying, and even harder to explain to Tommy why he was practically smacking the cabinet doors when he arrived downstairs. 

"...Ignoring that," Tommy had said, sparing Tubbo the awkward explanation. "I couldn't find anything we needed in the bathroom or the rooms, but," he said, and tossed a stack of papers onto the table. 

Tubbo frowned and looked over at the stack of papers, realizing what they were. "A newspaper?" He asked. "Don't get me wrong Tommy, I appreciate the spirit. But I don't think we can use this for cleaning supplies," he said. 

"Not for cleaning supplies you dummy," Tommy said and pointed at it. "Read the headline," he said. Tubbo was about to ask why, but then noticed that Tommy seemed...sort of serious. That was enough to convince him to just do it and not as questions. 

The news paper looked old, not ancient or anything, just not from the last two years or so. And judging by the date in the corner, Tubbo was right. The newspaper article was from five years ago, and it...startled him. 

In big bold letters at the top of the cover page, it read 'FAMILY OF THREE DIES IN HOUSE FIRE', with a picture beneath. The picture was of three people, and looking at them made Tubbo feel slightly queasy after reading the headline. 

The three men in the photo were smiling to the camera, grouped up together like a family photo. The tallest had brown hair covered by a beanie and a yellow sweater on, and stood in the middle between the other two. The one to his left had long light pink hair and was looking away from the camera, and the one on his right had shoulder length blond hair and--

The hat. 

The man on the right with the blond hair was wearing a green bucket hat with white stripes, smiling over at the other two. Tubbo looked down to the bottom of the photo, where a caption was written; 'Phil (right), Wilbur (center), and Techno (left) Watson'. 

"...so this is what Fundy the waiter was talking about," He said after a moment, looking away from the picture. 

"Also explains why everything in here looks new, the place was toasted," Tommy added and looked around. 

Tubbo couldn't look at the picture anymore. Five years ago or not, that was still very sad to think that the three people who looked so happy in the photograph were dead. He thought that maybe, out of respect, he'd read the article to find out more later. Just not then. 

As he was looking away from the newspaper, a thought struck him. "Hey, Tommy? Where'd you find this?" He asked.

Tommy looked away from the slowly opening cabinet door and back over to Tubbo. He resisted the urge to shiver again as a breeze passed over him. "Oh, right--that was the second thing I was going to tell you," He said. 

Tubbo stared at him, signaling to continue. "Yeah?'" 

"I found an attic door covered up on the ceiling," Tommy said.


	5. Chapter Three: The Man In The Blade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3T1K0p0U42M
> 
> Grim grinning ghosts come out to socialize...
> 
> (bruh...the SMP has me so sad rn--XD)

Tubbo had honestly not known what to expect when Tommy had told him about the attic. His imagination had filled his head with stereotypical scenarios of spiderwebs and falling apart wooden planks without hesitation. He supposed part of that instant appearance had come into his head due to the chilling ambience of their previous conversation. 

Despite his apparent intrigue at the discovery of the attic door, Tommy actually hadn't moved away from the kitchen for a while. He and Tubbo stayed in some sort of stuck silence, more occasionally than not glancing at the newspaper article again. Family of three. The statement was chilling for sure, not helping with the random bursts of cold that the boys could feel wash over themselves. 

It had taken a moment for them to get through it and move on. Tommy had tried to bring back up the energy, shaking it off and claiming he'd found a portal to another world. For the sake of not wanting to be sad over something neither of them had any control over, Tubbo had laughed along and agreed with the statement. "Sure Tommy," he'd said, nodding his head. "What do you have for me?" 

Turns out, what Tommy had for Tubbo was a case of intense curiosity. The attic door was at the end of the hall on the second story, right next to the third room. Tubbo wasn't sure how he hadn't seen it before, the door made a small rectangular bulge underneath the newly plastered conventional ceiling. "Oh wow, you weren't kidding," he said.

Tommy looked over at him, frowning slightly. "What, you thought I was?" He asked, and walked over so he was directly underneath the ceiling. "Help me open this up." He said, reaching up and trying to tap the door. 

"How? You're taller than me," Tubbo stated, confused as tp what Tommy wanted him to do. 

His friend gave him a flat look and blew a raspberry. "I know that," he said and looked back up at the door melded into the cream colored ceiling. "But, least you could do is get on my shoulders and pull it Tubbo."

Tubbo's eyes widened just a little. "I'm sorry, you want me to what?" He asked, looking away from the ceiling and back to Tommy. 

"Get on my shoulders and pull the handle, I thought that's what I said the first time," Tommy said, and without waiting for an answer crouched down on the ground. "Okay, just climb on and then pull," he instructed. 

He did promise no peace...Tubbo thought to himself as he sighed, walking behind Tommy and praying he wasn't about to die. "Okay...if you say so..." he said, and cautiously moved to put himself onto Tommy's shoulders. When he'd successfully made it on top without dying, he smiled to himself. "Hey Toms, this isn't that--" he started, words cut off by a surprised yelp.

Tommy had stood up fairly quickly, trying to keep his balance. "Tubbo, that doesn't help anything!" He said when he found himself looking through his friend's fingers that were wrapped around his head for support.

"Then don't stand up so quickly--that doesn't help anything either!" Tubbo responded, and after getting himself back together, finally uncovered Tommy's eyes. 

"Tubbo, please. I know exactly what I'm doing, trust me!" Tommy declared as Tubbo carefully reached upwards to find the handle. 

"Says the guy who almost hit a guy with a shopping cart." 

"Okay--that guy was standing in the middle of the road, he had it coming!" Tommy protested, looking up to see Tubbo grabbing the handle. 

"We were in a market Tommy, there is no 'road'," Tubbo said and pulled the handle. He felt slightly off balance, using his upper arm strength to yank down the door--and for a moment he worried he'd cause both him and Tommy to topple over. This worry was short lived though, because he only felt that way for a second. One moment he thought he would tip backwards, and the next he felt totally secured, like he couldn't fall back even if he tried. 

No longer fearing a six foot drop, Tubbo yanked down the door to the attic...and immediately showered both himself and Tommy with plaster and dust. 

"Oh come on!" Tommy said, looking down and squeezing his eyes shut. "Even the ceiling is unhappy about this, look how it cries," he said, obviously upset by the debris. 

Tubbo coughed and pulled back the door, seeing a wooden ladder folded into the top. "Hey," he said, ignoring Tommy's last comment about the crying ceiling. "There's a ladder here--back up and we can climb it," he said, and pulled the ladder down. 

Tommy did as was suggested, and helped Tubbo down off his shoulders. The ladder unfolded itself as it descended, making a small staircase for the two to journey up. One thing Tommy noticed immediately was how, despite the dust rain that had come from opening the door, the ladder seemed almost spotless. "Well," he said and put his hands on his hips. "Onward!"

Turns out, it wasn't just the ladder, the whole attic seemed different from the rest of the house. The window that Tubbo had gazed at earlier was slightly open, light coming through and casting a warm orange glow over the entire room. Cardboard boxes labeled with sharpie were stacked in the far corners, taking up most of the space. Some were open and had pieces of clothing draped across them, and others were sealed tight with multiple layers of tape. Aside from them, the wooden floor of the attic was barren, wide and cleaned. 

"Whoa," Tommy said and looked around. "Cool! An attic--never had an attic to go into before," he commented, getting off the ladder and going towards the middle of the room. 

"It's pretty big actually," Tubbo commented like an agreement, joining Tommy after he'd come up. He looked over his shoulder towards the boxes. "Pretty empty too though," he said. "Should we even be in here?"

Tommy scoffed and shook his head. "Tubbo, Tubbo, Tubbo--the house is in my aunt's name or something, it's fine," he said. "Besides, it's not like we're doing anything bad," He added, wandering off to one end of the room. 

"If you say so Big T..." Tubbo mumbled and tried to shrug off his uncertainty. He wandered over to one side of the boxes, looking around. He didn't want to look through anything, he had a sneaking suspicion the belongings inside were property of that poor family, and he didn't want to be rude--even if the old owners were dead. 

As he was walking, something caught his eye--well, blinded his eye. The light seeping in from the window had caught on something reflective, sitting flat on top of one of the boxes. Tubbo could hear Tommy still talking to him, but he frankly wasn't paying attention anymore. He walked over to the box and picked up the reflective item, a picture frame with a small plaque. 

The plaque on the bottom of the frame read, First Place Winner, in neat printed font. The photo inside had two people in it--both wearing clothes that Tubbo guessed were needed for fencing. The pink-haired figure nearest to where the camera would have been was facing away from it, plunging a muted sword forward into the padded chest of their shocked opponent. Or, at least Tubbo assumed the opponent was shocked, it was hard to tell with the stark white smiling mask covering their features. 

"Huh," he mused to himself and set down the frame. He took a moment to look at it before he realized, when had Tommy stopped talk--

"HOLY SHIT TUBBO LOOK WHAT I FOUND!" Tommy exclaimed, making Tubbo jump. 

He turned around quickly, fully letting go of the picture frame. "What--" his eyes widened. "Tommy, is that a sword?" 

Tommy had a massive grin on his face, he was nodding excitedly as he held the blade in front of him. "Yeah! It's poggers, isn't it?" He asked, admiring the way the light caught the blade. He held it up a little higher to look at it more.

"Should you be holding that?" Tubbo asked, slightly concerned--but Tommy did also have a point, it was a cool looking sword. 

"Tubbo, we shouldn't be asking 'should we's, and 'should we not's--the possibilities here are endless!" He said, and began to wave the sword around. "We have the blade, we could be heroes, villains! Or, we could just take over the world!" He said. 

"Take over the world?" Tubbo asked, chuckling a little as he watched his friend. "With one sword? How're we gonna do that?" He asked. 

"Oh, I'll tell you how," Tommy started, and raised the sword again in triumph. "We'll--" He cut himself off and his eyes widened. His gaze was fixed in the reflective handle of the sword, shining against the sunlight. He could see Tubbo in the metal, curiously watching him and wondering why he stopped talking, but he wasn't paying attention to that. 

In the reflection, right next to Tubbo, was something else. A figure with long pink hair and a white shirt, staring at him as he held the sword. Since Tommy could only see through the reflection, he couldn't see the figure's expression all too well. But something about the way it remained unmoving told him that the figure--the man, was staring directly at him. 

"...Tommy?" Tubbo asked. Sometimes Tommy randomly cut himself off, that he knew. But he'd never seen his friend completely freeze like that. "Are you--" 

"TUBBO!" Tommy exclaimed, snapping himself out of it and instantly lowering the sword. 

"Ah! What?!" Tubbo asked, jumping in surprise. "What was that for?" He asked, and laughed off his nerves about the sudden outburst. He wrapped his arms around himself a little bit, he was cold again despite being in the sun. 

"I dunno--maybe you're right," Tommy set down the sword in the middle of the room, slightly shaken. 

"I'm right?" The other boy asked, slightly confused. "About what?"

Tommy turned around and started heading back to the ladder. "We shouldn't be up here--and any way, it's getting late, we should get some food," he said and began to climb back down from the attic. He paused when he'd made it halfway down, sticking his head back out. "C'mon Law, you coming?" He asked. 

"Uh...yeah," Tubbo said after a moment, heading over to the ladder himself. "I'm hungry anyway," he added and started to climb down. His eyes drifted over to the sword laying in the middle of the room, wondering what exactly had made Tommy leave it, before he left the attic. 

The attic was left alone. Quiet and still as any other day. 

He watched the door slide shut, opened for the first time since he couldn't remember when. It was so strange having someone poke around at it, having new faces wandering through their halls. The walls had eyes after all, their eyes, and the change of scenery was interesting to watch. Interesting to hear about, and all together very new. 

Too bad new things made him anxious. 

"Did you have to scare him like that?" A familiar voice asked from behind him.

"He was touching my stuff...he could have ruined it, Will." 

"...you do have a fair point." 

Techno barley even glanced behind him. He could see that Wilbur was floating above a box, his body half stuck through the wall of the house. "One of them almost touched my guitar," he told his brother, rolling over so he was hanging upside down. "The shorter one, he tried earlier. I honestly didn't know what I was expecting him to do, guess I've lost my people skills," he chuckled to himself. 

"Good thing you can't lose what you never had," Techno mumbled, glancing away from the sword and letting his gaze fall on the picture frame instead. 

"Oh hush, you aren't hopeless you know, no one is," Wilbur reminded him, gracefully flipping himself so he passed through the attic floor to be beside Techno. "Besides, I think they're interesting. Phil does too." 

"Interesting," Techno repeated to himself, trying to believe what he was being told. 

From their positions in the attic, they could hear the sound of laughter below, the two new boys in their house making their stay there known. Wilbur smiled at the sound, and placed his hand onto Techno's shoulder. "Interesting," he repeated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Ispiration for Techno being in the blade came from a Ghosty Bois Inc comic made by Nopedog_ on Twitter, aka "BLM @ school not Pog"--please go check out the comic and the amazing person. Also, I have a question, and please answer honestly...are my chapters boring?)


	6. Chapter Four: Salt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3T1K0p0U42M 
> 
> Grim grinning ghosts come out to socialize...

Tommy was not a superstitious boy. Not at all. In fact, on a number of occasions he laughed in the face of what was perceived as bad luck. Many times had he had pointed out that there was a black cat and intentionally crossed its path, and attempted to sprint underneath a ladder. It was decently obvious to anyone that Tommy just wanted to thrive on the chaos that silly superstitions could bring. 

...but he was starting to feel slightly concerned. 

On their first night sleeping at the house, both Tommy and Tubbo had decided to watch some TV. They'd gone back and forth on banter, the idea of cleaning the place pushed to the back of their heads as they tried to decide. However, just as they'd chosen a film (Tubbo had been very persistent about this one film called Birdemic, insisting it was golden), the television had died. It wasn't as though the power had gone out, the electrical appliance had simply fizzled and shut off on its own, refusing to power back on. After some time trying to resuscitate it, they realized it was no use, and decided to go to bed. 

It had taken Tommy some time to fall asleep. All through the night, he'd felt...off. It was constantly suddenly chilly inside the bedroom, causing him to curl up under layers of sheets and blankets. The next, it was as warm as you would expect during summer, which made him flip flop between the sheets over and over again. The window had flown open, supposedly unlocked by a gust of wind, and slammed against the wall. Tommy had nearly jumped out of his skin, rushing over to close it. After dealing with that, when he'd turned around...he could have sworn he didn't have a second blanket on top of the bed before he'd left. Too tired to argue against logic, he'd thrown himself back into the bed, and drifted off listening to a distant musical sound.

That had happened about a week ago, and the odd occurrences didn't cease the whole time. 

Tubbo was awake first. He'd ventured downstairs, taking a small look around the house for himself. He'd found more boxes in small closets and the corner of rooms, more items once belonging to the deceased family. Looking at the boxes made him slightly queasy, and he shivered to himself when looking at them for too long. In order to distract himself from all of it, he decided he was going to make breakfast. At least that way he had food, and wouldn't have to worry about Tommy's hangry rave that morning. 

He'd gone through the remainder of the small supply of food they'd brought with them, and started cooking, just mainly keeping to himself in his head. Above him, the floorboards creaked, he assumed that Tommy had finally woken up, and went back to work. It was calm, peaceful even. Light flooded into the room, a nice breeze blew in from an open window, Tubbo would admit it--it seemed like maybe he would get peace on this trip.

That thought was shattered by the sound of Tommy screaming from upstairs. 

"Tommy?" Tubbo yelled, leaving his dish and running over to the bottom of the stairs. "What the hell man, are you okay?" He shouted up. 

Tommy came frantically running in from around the corner, practically crashing into the top stair railing. He looked disheveled and an odd combination of half asleep, and live as a wire. "TUBBO!" He shouted as soon as he saw him.

Startled, Tubbo shouted back. "WHAT?" He looked up at Tommy, even behind him--he didn't see a single reason why the blond was losing his marbles. 

Tommy bolted down the stairs, rushing up right next to Tubbo and grabbing his shoulders. "I think that sword was cursed," he blurted, in complete seriousness. 

Tubbo stared at him for a moment and blinked slowly. "I'm sorry...what?" He asked. 

"The sword, the one in the creepy attic with all the creepy boxes an' shit, and then I said that we could take over the world and all that," He rambled, blowing a raspberry and giving a nervous laugh. "Well Tubbo, it was cursed, cursed sword!" He said. 

"'Cursed sword'," Tubbo deadpanned, nodding his head. "Damn. I wanna see a cursed sword," he said. 

"No you don't!" Tommy said and shook his head, glancing back up to the top of the stairs. "You really don't want a cursed sword Tubbo," he said. 

At that point, Tubbo did admittedly start to get worried. "Okay, Tommy? Look back at me Big Man," he said, and waited until his friend did. "What makes you think that this is a cursed sword?" 

Tommy nodded his head to help himself focus. "Okay, okay. So, I woke up and looked around a bit, cause I know I'm messy, and the room seemed unreasonably--"

"Dirty?" 

"Clean," Tommy corrected and continued. "So I started lookin' around, y'know? And then I decided, well, I want food, I'm hungry--so I went to go brush my teeth, yeah?" He said, and Tubbo nodded along through the whole thing. "So, everything was fine, and I brushed my teeth, but when I looked back up from spittin' it out..." he said and slowed down. "Tubbo, there was someone behind me." 

"Behind you?" Tubbo asked. The queasy feeling came back into his stomach, and he too glanced up towards the top of the stairs. Just barley he could see the door to the attic from around the corner. "What do you mean there was someone behind you?"

Tommy took his hands off of Tubbo's shoulders and backed up, gesturing around wildly. "Someone was behind me! I looked back at the mirror and there was this guy behind me, just staring at me! He--'member that newspaper?" He asked. 

"Yeah...?" Tubbo said uneasily, and glanced back towards the kitchen. 

Tommy snapped his fingers. "The guy with pink hair--he was behind me in the mirror, just staring at me! And when I looked back to see if he was there, nothing. I look back at the mirror--nothing!" He said. "He was only there for a second, but oh, oh I saw him!"

"And you think it was because of the sword...?" He asked, trying not to be wigged out by the whole idea of what Tommy was saying. 

"Well yeah! Cause I saw him in the sword yesterday too," He said, and earned a quick, not painful, punch in the arm from Tubbo. "Ow! What was that for?"

"You saw something and you didn't tell me?" He asked. "Tommy--what if we died!" He said. 

Tommy blinked. "Well...I didn't think that you'd die," He said and shook his head. "But I do think it was all because of that sword."

Tubbo took a deep breath and shook his head. "Okay, okay. Let's try and logic it out, okay? You were...probably just really tired," he said. "Yeah, you woke up, you subconsciously or whatever remembered the newspaper, and boom. You thought you saw something," he looked to Tommy to see his reaction. 

Tommy had a deadpan expression, that resembled more of a pout than anything else. "Tubbo. I did not sleep-see a ghost," he commented. 

"Well, how do you know? Is he still there?" Tubbo asked, looking back up the stairs. Before Tommy could answer, he ran up the stairs to go see for himself. "Hello?" He called, heading towards the bathroom. 

"Tubbo--you don't just 'hello' a dead person!" Tommy shouted after him and sprinted just as quickly up the stairs. He came up to see that Tubbo had entered the bathroom before him, staring dead into the mirror. 

The bathroom seemed still, aside from Tommy's utilities sprawled out in his panic to run out. Neither of them said a word as they waited, watching the mirror intensely. After a few minutes of doing so, Tubbo nodded his head. 

"As a lawyer, I pronounce your theory: nothing but sleepy-Tommy-brain," he said, rubbing his eyes. Tommy had frankly given him a heart attack. 

Tommy spluttered a second and turned to face him. "'Sleepy-Tommy-brain'? What does that even--lawyers can't do that, you're not even a real lawyer," He ranted. Tubbo stepped past him and left the bathroom, resisting the urge to shiver as he exited. 

"Hey, if you can be a doctor just cause you have a nerf gun, I'm a lawyer," he said and shrugged, walking back downstairs. 

"Tubbo this is serious!" Tommy ran after him and grabbed his arm. "I think this place might be haunted," he said, in complete seriousness. 

Tubbo was about to comment how ridiculous that sounded, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not only because Tommy looked shaken, but because looking at some of the things that had occured...it didn't seem too far fetched. "Haunted house," he said, and stared right at his friend. 

Tommy nodded. "Haunted house," he repeated. 

The boys stared at each other for another moment, the reality of what they were even considering settling in. After another minute or so, they both burst out laughing. 

"A haunted house--oh my god Tommy, you scared me!" Tubbo laughed, leaning against the wall. 

"I--I scared myself!" Tommy cackled, shaking his head. "Haunted house, that's ridiculous," he said. 

Tubbo nodded his head, taking a deep breath before pushing himself away from the wall. "Totally," he agreed, brushing himself off. 

Tommy laughed and then froze. "...hey Tubbo?" he asked. 

Tubbo frowned, not again. "Yes?" he asked. 

"Do you smell burning toast?" 

Instantly, Tubbo became concerned about Tommy's health, but then paused as he smelled it too. His eyes widened. "Breakfast!" He shouted, flying down the stairs. Tommy's laughter followed him down, and eventually so did the boy himself. Neither of them seemed to notice the figures curiously watching them go from the bathroom mirror. 

"They're so funny," Wilbur tittered to himself. 

Breakfast was toast--burnt toast, at any rate. After retrieving his massacred meal, Tubbo had given up on the idea of trying to feed them both. Tommy suggested that they go back to what they'd named 'the Fundy diner' (though they both knew it was called "Pogtopia"--whatever that meant), or even the nice looking bakery on the other side of town. The idea had sat well, and the two left the house. 

Tubbo had decided, in the week since 'moving' there, he liked L'Manburg. It was a nice place, and the people there didn't seem half bad. He waved over to one of the shop owners, receiving one back. Tubbo thought that guy was interesting--and that he totally rocked that strawberry dress. 

The two continued to walk around, deciding to swing by and check on Fundy--whom had started to become an acquaintance of theirs throughout the week. They looked around quickly for the diner, and Tommy said he'd race Tubbo over. The two took off down the street, rushing towards the building. 

Tommy was in the lead, laughing as Tubbo trailed after him. "Catch up neeeeerd!" He shouted, looking at the brunette behind him. 

Instead of responding, Tubbo's eyes widened. "Tommy, look out!" He shouted. Tommy turned around just in time to see a blur of green in front of him, before running straight into the person. 

Tubbo skidded to a stop and watched as Tommy rammed into the man standing on the street, sending them both tumbling down the sidewalk. He ran over to make sure they were okay, and also pick up all the things that the man had dropped. "We are so sorry!"

Tommy groaned a little and sat up, wincing at the scrapes he'd received from the crash. "I'm so sorry man, I did not see you there," He said and looked over at the guy as he sat up. "Are you okay?" 

The guy's green hoodie had dirt smudges on it now, and his blond hair was all over the place. "Wow," he said, looking over at Tommy. He seemed...kind of amused. "You were really bookin' it, what was the rush?" 

Tommy was relatively shocked at the calm reaction. "I...wanted to win a race," he admitted. Tubbo came back over to the two, holding onto two slightly torn grocery bags and a leather-bound book. 

"Sorry sir--he just really wanted to win," Tubbo said, giving Tommy a quick look before holding out his hand to help the guy up. After he did that, he handed him back his belongings. 

"It's okay, I get it. My friends and I...have a lot of races," The guy said and nodded his head, looking into the grocery bags. He frowned. "Dammit, all the salt broke," he mumbled. 

Tommy gave a little laugh as he got up. "You say that like you had a lot of it," he said. 

The guy turned his attention over to him and showed them the inside of the grocery bag. "I did," he said. The inside of the bag was full of white, salt, and broken containers. 

"Oh wow," Tubbo said.

"Why do you have so much salt?" Tommy asked the guy, flabbergasted. 

The guy gave a little chuckle and smiled. "Because," he said, tucking his book under his arm. "Salt protects someone from ghosts."

Tommy met Tubbo's eyes and they exchanged a thought. "Ghosts?" Tommy asked. 

The guy nodded his head. "Mmhmm," he said. Before either of the boys could ask what he meant by that, the guy answered. 

"I'm Dream, by the way. I'm a part time ghost hunter."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all are so sweet--your comments make me very happy, and thank you oh so much for all the kudoses!!!!   
> I hope you all stay safe and have an amazing day/night!!!


	7. Chapter Five: Coming Up The Path

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3T1K0p0U42M
> 
> Grim grinning ghosts come out to socialize...

"You're a what?" Tommy instantly sprang up, much like an excited child. 

The man, Dream, chuckled at his excitement and nodded. "You heard me," he said as he leveled out the mound of salt in his bag. "A ghost hunter. Well, paranormal investigator is really what it is, but I'm all for the capture as well, need-be," he explained. 

"Is that an actual profession?" Tubbo asked, thinking about it. It sounded really cool, though slightly fictitious. 

Tubbo spluttered like a stalled car engine. "Real or not, that is poggers!" He declared. He felt much better since the morning, no longer jittery and worried about supposed haunted blades. 

"Sometimes you can get paid," Dream explained, dusting off his hoodie. "Though not often, so you've really got to love the stuff to do it. Lucky for me though, I do."

Tommy practically jumped on the guy with questions. "How do you even know ghosts exist? Have you ever seen one? What color are they--or are they all like the color of however violently they died?" He spun around and looked at his friend. "Tubbo--what color is violence?" 

"Orange," Tubbo answered immediately. 

Dream watched the two of them and resisted the urge to laugh at their antics. "Um...alright then. Well, it's early--have you boys eaten? I don't mind answering questions over food if you guys are comfortable with that," He said. 

Tommy exchanged a brief look with Tubbo. They'd originally planned on going to get food anyway, and besides...either of them would be lying if they said that they weren't at least a little interested. "Alright," Said Tubbo as he squinted away from the sun. "Food sounds nice, thank you." 

Dream nodded, and tied up his bag of ghost salt. "We'll pay," Tubbo blurted. "Y'know, since Tommy ran into you and all."

Tommy nudged him slightly. "Oi, oi. That wasn't really me, I just wanted to win," He said as a defense. Tubbo gave him a confused look and the two began to jokingly go back and forth. As they made their way over the diner, they and laughed over the issue, nudging one another back and forth every few sentences.

Dream smiled slightly watching the two. In some small way, they sort of reminded him of himself, and an old friend of his. 

He really missed his friend. 

"So you're telling me, that ghosts make fun of your laugh?" Tommy asked Dream, sitting beside Tubbo in a booth at their favorite oddly-designed diner. The blond across from them gave a playful sigh and shrugged. 

"Yeah, they call me 'Tea Kettle'," He said, and skewered one of his French fries with a toothpick. The diner wasn't so busy, a very low hum of chatter giving the whole area a relaxed feel. Fundy had come by to be their server earlier, having a suspiciously brief exchange with Dream before taking off all together. Tommy would be lying if he said he wasn't interested.

"Are you a tea kettle?" Tubbo asked, looking straight at him. "I mean--if the dead are going that route, there's gotta be something, right?" He asked. 

Dream opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off unexpectedly. "He wheezes like a kettle that's currently dying in a melting pot," Fundy answered from behind them, startling the group slightly and setting down Tubbo's soda next to his plate. "Pretty sure his lungs are collapsed." 

Dream got over his initial reaction and gave a nervous, non-wheezing laugh. "Well, that's one way to put it," He said, and pressed his lips together in a smile. "Though I think I remember that you used to call it--"

"I have another table," Fundy cut him off again, and walked away from their booth. Dream watched him go and blew a raspberry, running a hand through his hair. Out of all the things he could have chosen to branch off of with that, of all the things he could have said. 

"Well...um," Tommy said, and glanced at Tubbo for word support. He wasn't all too sure what had just happened. "That wasn't awkward at all."

"No, that was really awkward," Tubbo whispered to him. "But it's okay! It's alright, sometimes, uh, stuff. Happens, and it's awkward," he blubbered for some sort if response.

"That's true, but, it's alright," Dream told them. "Sorry you sat through that, though I appreciate that you guys didn't take off running," He said. He took a moment to straighten himself out, looking at the table in thought for a moment before nodding. "Right, where were we--ghostly communication."

"Does that actually work?" Tubbo asked.

Dream nodded. "Yeah, with the proper equipment, you can usually make out snippets of the dead, or at least, what they're trying to communicate with you about," He explained. "Sometimes they try to leave signs, or they prefer their own version of body language--which is pretty much making themselves known through slight apparitions." 

Without hesitation Tommy looked to Tubbo. "Wait, wait, wait--does that mean they can pop up in haunted swords and cursed bathrooms?" He asked. 

Tubbo gave him a confused look. "Now the bathroom is cursed as well?" 

Tommy shook his head. "Ignore the cursed part--if I saw a dude that wasn't really there staring at me in reflection-y stuff, does that mean that I 'talked' to a ghost?" He asked. 

Dream considered it a moment, leaning over to grab his book. "Well, I'd say so. Unless that's a normal thing for you, then you might wanna get that checked out. But other than that, it sounds like some form of first contact with the undead," He said, and excitedly started flipping through the pages of his book. 

From what Tubbo could see, the pages had been lined with thick ink sketches and scribbled notes, a fat journal obviously stuffed with time and effort. It looked decently impressive for sure. "Tubbo, Tubbo, you hear what he said? Our house is haunted, I knew it," Tommy told him, nudging his arm. 

"I know, I know--that actually probably explains a couple of things," Tubbo said, nodding his head. "That...I don't really know what to do with this," He admitted. What were they supposed to do with that knowledge. 

They were living with a family of ghosts. 

"Well, one ghost and a haunted house are two very different things," Dream said. "The ghost could just be stopping by there for a minute and then moving on into the afterlife."

Tubbo shook his head, messing with the ends of a napkin. "I don't think that's the case," He said, and glanced around the diner as though someone might be listening. "We think there might be more ghosts," He said.

"And they're certainly not just passing through," Tommy shook his head and snorted. "Unless the line to get into the afterlife is like, friggin' five years long," He said.

Since they'd begun explaining, Dream had since stopped flipping through his journal. He close the pages and studied the two boys, eyes darting between the two of them as he thought. "You boys aren't from around here," He noted. "Where're you staying?" 

"The Watson house," Tubbo told him. "We're staying for the summer."

Dream's face shifted into another expression, an odd mixture of shocked surprise, and something else. Hope. "And you said that you...saw a ghost?" 

Tommy nodded. He remembered waking up that morning, and seeing the figure stand behind his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He'd been cold, and hadn't even really noticed the other there until he was making direct and startled eye contact. "Oh yeah, one's been staring at me--one of the old owners, the one with pink hair."

"You saw him?" Dream asked, barley letting Tommy finish. Food forgotten, he began to pack his things up. "Okay--okay. Lemme know if I'm being too much," he said, frantically placing all of his items together. "But, may I take a look at the house?" He asked. "Again, let me know if that's too much, it's just...I haven't tried looking there for a while." 

Tommy and Tubbo huddled together on the opposite side of the booth. "Is this a good idea?" Tommy asked. 

"We are already eating breakfast with him," Tubbo said. 

"True, he could have killed us already if he wanted to."

"Very true, and besides, we can always tell him we have a gun, if he does something suspicious," Tommy pulled away from the huddle slightly after Tubbo added this. 

He leaned back in a second later. "Ah yes, the Vlog Gun. That'll definitely come in handy against an actual psychopath." 

"Well he doesn't know it's just a nerf gun!" Tubbo whisper yelled. They disbanded their huddle, sitting up straight once again.

"Alright. You can come over," Tommy said. Dream sighed in relief and commenced his packing. "But just know, so you don't come on in startin' shit, Tubbo and I have a gun." 

"I...won't be starting shit," Dream told them after a moment. "Trust me." 

Tubbo and Tommy decided to do so, and they had never seen a man pay a check and bolt out of a restaurant faster. 

"I wonder when they'll be home." 

Phil looked over his shoulder, glancing behind him at Wilbur by the window. He was upside down (his preferred position since dying), and watching the world bustle on from outside their home. He himself was 'seated' on the couch, and abusing his 'ghostly abilities' to activate the television. 

"It's our home, Will, not theirs--though they have been here for what feels like eons," Techno, or rather just Techno's head through the ceiling, said in response. Judging from where he was coming through, he had to have been sitting in his room. Dead or not, Techno still very much so liked his room. 

"Well, I know that--but they're staying here for a while, and I like them. Might as well get used to it," Wilbur said, still waiting. 

Sometimes when Phil watched him wait for the boys to come back (a habit he had since developed), it reminded him of a different time. When they were younger, and he'd watch as Wilbur waited by the door, excitedly awaiting the arrival of his best friends. He'd watch the world from their window, wait for them to come up the path, and have the door flung open for them before they could even knock. He'd carried some variation of this into his older years, always waiting by the door for someone to come. 

He'd still done that a lot the first couple years after the fire. Hardly anyone ever came. 

"As long as they stop touching my stuff...I guess I'm okay with it?" Techno figured, sliding through the ceiling into the main room. He floated down onto the couch beside Phil, bunching his pig-patterned pajama bottoms in his fists. "I mean, it's not like we get a choice." 

"That's right, we don't," Phil said, his attention turned to Techno. "And since we don't really get to be all 'get out of our house!', we just have to accept it for what it is. We've got visitors," He said. "They're staying for a little while, and that's okay." He said.

"I just..." Techno blew a raspberry and leaned back into the seat without falling through it. "I thought that maybe, at least just a small part of the awkwardness would go away," He said and gave a bitter-ish laugh. "I'm dead. I died because I was crushed by scaffolding, and suffocated by carbon monoxide stuff. That sounds pretty scary, and it was," He said. "So...why the hell does the, other stuff. The, 'easy' stuff--why does that still bother me? More, possibly?" 

"Because, people can be scary," Wilbur said, popping up from beside him. "Sometimes, people can be the scariest things on the planet, and there's nothing we can do about it," He said, and put his hand on top of Techno's head. "No matter what people do, you're always going to have Phil and me."

"Wilbur is completely right," Phil said. "We may not be perfect sometimes, but no one really is, so it's okay. We can all be not-perfect together, and who knows," He smiled to his younger brother. "Maybe it'll start to bother you less." 

Techno smiled slightly and closed his eyes. "God...you're both so sappy," He said, still grinning to himself. He could practically see Wilbur's 'offended' face without even opening his eyes. His brother began to go on a rant, spouting dramatically about the woes of being an optimistic specter. It was amusing, and despite the previous comment about the levels of sap, Techno was honestly very grateful for them both. He wasn't sure what he'd do without them. 

Wilbur's rant was cut short, and he gasped. "Oh, yes! They're back!" He said, and dashed to the window. He could hear the sound of Tommy's sharp laugh down the path already, and saw both him and Tubbo a moment later. Though...

"Oh, they've made a friend," Wilbur noticed, and watched through the window. He leaned out of the way of a curtain to continue observing. "...hey, Techno? This guy looks kind of familiar." 

Techno frowned and opened one of his eyes, leaning forward slightly. "And you think I would know them?" He asked, floating over beside Wilbur. "Wilbur, I'm not exactly a social butterfl..." he trailed off and his eyes widened a little bit. Was he happy? Or an odd combination of confused and angry? It was hard to tell when his eyes locked on the man in the green hoodie coming up their pathway. 

"...Dream?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I'm so sorry this is late guys! the 21st was my birthday, and I got a little sidetracked XD. Mentally I'm still referring to it as the 22nd {though its 2 AM the 23rd--HAPPY BIRTHDAY TUBBO!}, and a day late, so I'm sorry. I hope you all have a wonderful day or night, and stay safe!)


	8. Chapter Six: The Taste Of Victory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3T1K0p0U42M
> 
> Grim grinning ghosts come out to socialize...
> 
> (Full disclosure, I have no idea how a fencing match works, and for some reason I didn't look it up--so if anyone knows any better than me and has some stuff to add or correct, lemme know :))

Techno had been terrified.

No one would know it of course, but as he'd stood in the locker room, adjusting his uniform in the mirror, he could make calculated note of all the ways his nerves stood out. His eyes were darting back and forth, his fingers trembled slightly while he pulled at the edge of his suit. Even the way he was practicing, the way his sword slashed back and forth through the air, was a reflection of his own anxieties.

Now, he had known, that as soon as he entered the match he'd be set--after all, adrenaline was usually a helpful tool in his situation. But until then, he could only sit there and think. Just think. He thought about how he might've fallen flat on his face. Thought about how he might've missed the start off, and gotten thrown off his game immediately. He could've made a fool of himself. Or he could've forgotten everything he'd trained hours to do, and be a total disgrace. Phil and Wilbur had been watching. Phil and Wilbur were going to see him fail, they were going to watch him mess up, everyone would watch him--

He'd been pulled from his thoughts by the touch of someone's hand on his shoulder. 

"Hey," someone had said from behind him.

When he'd turned around, Techno had been greeted by a grin. Not a human one, a printed smiley face was staring back at him beneath the grid of a fencing helmet, two small holes displaying real eyes hidden behind the mask. "Are you doing okay?" Dream had asked.

"I'm just plotting your downfall, it's okay," Techno had shrugged it off, and used his odd sense of humor as a deflection against Dream's comment. It wasn't that Techno hadn't liked Dream, in fact, he had quite a bit of respect for the guy. Dream had been a talented fencer alongside him, and any time they were paired together had been a challenge that Technoblade found himself excited to win. There had been brief moments, where Techno had even considered Dream his friend.

But that didn't mean that at the time he'd been any less desperate to win against him during the championship match.

Dream had snorted, and rolled his eyes behind his mask. "Oh wow, The Blade sounds so sure of himself," he'd said, and sat down on the locker room bench beside him.

Techno nodded, watching a piece of his hair move back and forth--it was at least something simple for him to focus on. Had he taken his medicine that morning? Looking back on it, he still couldn't remember if he had.

"Yep," He'd said, made oddly uncomfortable by the silence. "I'm always sure of myself, you know that."

Dream had nodded along beside him, and hummed in agreement. Techno had found himself looking around the locker room , trying to keep up his 'in-match' persona. He had always felt more comfortable in the heat of the moment--at least, when it came to fencing, he did.

"--Techno?" Dream had asked. 

Technoblade had turned his head to look over at his soon-to-be opponent. Dream had apparently taken off his mask and helmet, and had rested them against his legs as he'd messed with his hair. "Did you hear any of that?" He asked, looking at Techno.

Had Dream been talking?

Techno remembered being slightly embarrassed of zoning out, he'd shaken his head and frowned. "No...I'm sorry."

Instead of being annoyed, Dream had waved it off with a smile. "No, it's okay. I get it," he'd said. "What I said was, it's okay to be nervous, Techno. It happens to the best of us."

Laugh, he'd told himself, and so he did. It had been an awkward and completely unconvincing laugh, but he'd done so anyway. "Me? Nervous? Dream, never. Never--I am about to demolish you out there, you should be nervous," he'd responded, and could remember internally cringing at himself.

Dream had blown a raspberry and held up his hands in defense. "Oh no, I'm about to be demolished by 'The Blood God', whatever will I do?" He'd joked, though it hadn't at all come across as a taunt.

The reference to his game username had actually made Techno smile. He'd brought it up in some random after-practice conversation with Dream the week prior--the familiar situation made him feel slightly better.

"Oh, you should beg for mercy now," Techno had replied, playing into the joke. "I've been practicing non stop for a week," He'd said like a promise. 

Dream had laughed, a slightly sharp wheezing noise that still reminded Techno of a tea pot left for too long on a stove. After the laugh, Dream had stood up, grabbed his helmet and tucked it under his arm. "Well then this match should be fun," he'd smiled. "Because so have I."

Technoblade had grinned as well, and grabbed his sword as he stood up. He'd started thinking about other things. What type of tricks would Dream try to pull, what were his most impressive attacks to throw back at him--the match hadn't even started, but in that moment, Techno's anxieties had been replaced with something else; the need to win.

Dream had looked over Techno's shoulder as he'd put his helmet back on, the white smile replacing his face. "It's a good thing we're next," he'd said. "I can't wait to--what was the word you'd used? Demolish you," Even with the artificial smile blocking, Techno could tell Dream had been smiling.

"See you in The Pit," Techno had said the farewell like a promise, going to go retrieve his helmet.

"See you in The Pit," Dream had repeated, and started to leave himself. Before the green-suited fencer could leave entirely, Techno had stopped him.

"Hey, Dream?"

He'd stopped right before the door and turned around. "Yeah?"

"...Thanks, for the talk, or whatever," He'd smiled just slightly. "I needed that to help focus myself to crush you."

That had made Dream laugh, but the short-lived look of understanding that the two had shared made the moment seem slightly more sincere than the dialogue had suggested. "It's no problem," With that, Dream had left the locker room.

The memory of the actual event had passed by like an excitement-induced blur. Techno and Dream had gone back and forth with each other for quite a while, but neither of them had given any less than their best. Every move was made in thought, to which Techno had gladly remained focused on. His blood was pumping the entire match, this was the win he'd been waiting for, every moment had needed to count. But it was in those final moments, where Dream had stumbled back and he'd gone in for the final blow, he knew he'd done it.

His blade meeting Dream's padded chest and the eruption of cheering coming from his brothers was just what he'd needed. The perfect taste of victory.

Techno had subconsciously considered Dream a potential friend. They'd had a respect for each other that had made for some very interesting encounters together. But the real moment that he'd really come to terms with his friendship had been when he had felt Dream take a hold of his wrist, and seen him raise his arm up high in the air. From the angle he had been standing, Techno could see Dream's face beneath his mask.

And the smile of his friend had been much kinder to see than a mask. 

The photo of his victory still sat in the attic. He'd seen the brunet boy (Tubbo, right?) looking at it while his blond gremlin-friend had carelessly waved around his sword. Techno had a lot of thoughts sometimes whenever he saw that photo. He missed the feeling of his blood heating up with excitement. He missed the fencing arena, he even missed the times where he'd somewhat anxiously looked it all over and honestly wondered if that could be his future. But sometimes, just when he was glancing at it, he'd have a quick little thought.

He really missed his friend.

His friend who was now older, taller, and sprinting up to his doorstep followed by two strange children blabbing on about biscuits.

"That's unexpected," Phil chimed in from beside Techno. "He hasn't been here in a long time."

"So you can really talk to the ghosts inside the house?" Tubbo asked Dream as he unlocked the door, still somewhat skeptical about the whole ordeal. "Do you have a Luigi board?"

Dream looked at him and shook his head, he was obviously amused by the sentence. "You mean a Ouija board?" He asked. "No I don't have one of those on me--or a Luigi board--but I do have a spirit box."

"Is that like a lunchbox for dead people?" Tommy asked almost immediately as the door opened, rushing inside and looking around. He knew it was odd, but now that there was heavy reason to believe (if not already before), he was sort of interested in seeing them.

"Tommy, dead people don't have to ea—have you ever seen a dead person eat?" Tubbo cut himself off, and looked over to Dream.

Dream had entered the house, and started looking around. It had been a while since he visited the Watson home, almost five years actually. He'd seen it, passed by it, even looked at it every once and a while. But he hadn't been on its grounds in a very long time.

"Uh, okay, let's break that down," he said, pulling himself out of his thoughts and starting to go through his bag. "No, a spirit box is not a lunch box for ghosts, it's a communication device that helps us hear ghosts. And...Y'know what Tubbo, I actually don't think I ever have."

"Hey, hey ghosts—if there are any, are you guys hungry?" Tommy asked, cupping his hands over his mouth to call out.

He really didn't need to, all three specters were situated near the entrance, watching the others. "Did...he just ask if we're hungry?" Wilbur asked.

"He know's we're dead, right?" Techno added.

"It was...a nice gesture?" Phil figured, and gave a little shrug and a laugh. "Odd gesture, but alright then. Who wants to see if we can answer?"

Techno watched as Dream pulled a medium sized black box from the base of his backpack, carefully setting it on the coffee table in the middle of the room. There were some metallic pieces sticking out, a very miniature looking satellite dish branching off ever so slightly from a pool of wires. The box had some speakers melded into the sides, and a smooth glass circle that seemed blank at the moment. "Nerd," Techno snickered to himself upon seeing it. Though...he was a little hopeful. It looked nerdy enough to work.

"Ooh, me. Phil—can I please do it?" Wilbur asked excitedly, dashing over to the boys and the box.

"So how do we set it up?" Tubbo was asking, staring at the box as he sat down on his knees. He looked around the room, and shivered slightly after feeling another random cold spot.

"Well, first we—" Dream started, and stopped moving after experiencing a cold spot of his own. "Wait did you guys feel that?" He asked.

"All we know is being randomly cold," Tubbo answered, staring off ahead into the void as he said this. Dream nodded his head slowly.

"Okay, well—cold spots are a very well known tell tale of ghosts," he told them. Tommy's jaw dropped and he hopped up onto his feet.

"Oi! That was you guys? What the hell?" He asked, looking around in a circle since he couldn't actually pinpoint a ghost. Dream continued to work on the final steps of setting up the spirit box as Tommy sat back down. "Making Tubbo and I cold all the time, mmmm..." he grumbled to himself.

"We were walking through dead people," Tubbo realized. "We were cold, because we were walking through dead people."

"Very cold dead people," Tommy corrected.

Dream opened his mouth to elaborate more, but the spirit box began to make crackling static, the dishes began turning while the wires powered up the glass circle. Audio waves became visible on the circle, jolting up and down with electricity. "—old," the machine glitched out.

"What was that?" Tubbo asked, staring at the box.

Dream seemed both calm and feral over the noise, and yanked a rectangular box out of his bag. He turned it around and showed it off to the two boys. "That, my new friends, was a ghost," he grinned. The box seemed to some sort of reader, kind of like a calculator without numbers. Some text was written out on the top of the box. '[I'm/I so/no] cold'

"...what does that mean?" Tommy asked, looking at the letters on the screen.

Dream pulled the rectangle back to himself, and looked it over. "Sometimes stuff gets lost in translation—we are communicating beyond the veil after all," he said. "So sometimes the machine has to guess what it's getting? Our main guesses are 'I'm so cold' or 'I no cold'," he shrugged. "Either way boys, we're talking to a ghost," he said excitedly.

He set down his contraption, and grabbed for his journal. "This is so cool, I haven't had actual contact in so long. This is insane, I can't wait to tell George 'n Sapnap, Drista's gonna flip," he rambled to himself as he wrote some things down.

Tommy and Tubbo continued to watch the box, they both glanced around with interested worry. Were the dead really still around?

Dream felt hopeful. He felt hopeful that maybe, this would go right. Maybe, he'd actually be able to make some visual discoveries, maybe he'd find something else new. But through all the excitement, something blared in the back of his head.

Maybe, he'd finally get to say a proper goodbye to Technoblade.

His writing had slowed down as he thought about this. It was such an odd fixation. They hadn't been best friends or anything. But then again...he never really did expect to not even be given the chance to be.

"Ha," the box crackled, sending all three living boys on edge. Tommy and Tubbo were both still pretty shocked, Tommy was spluttering to himself and Tubbo was just staring in silence. Though Dream...he knew that voice.

"Nerd," Technoblade's voice crackled through the spirit box.


	9. Chapter Seven: The Stove

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3T1K0p0U42M
> 
> Grim grinning ghosts come out to socialize...
> 
> (I am so sorry that this came later than usual. I haven't had the easiest couple of days, and even though I had this entire chapter planned out, I couldn't make myself physically write it. I feel better today, which is why I wanted to get this out as soon as I could make myself. I'm so very sorry you guys, I promised you a consistent upload schedule, and I wanna try and keep that. I really do want to do this for you guys, you're all so sweet :). Okie, that's enough blabbering, I just wanted to say I'm sorry. Enjoy the chapter :))

"Nerd?" Tubbo asked, blinking in surprise at the box. 

Dream shot forward at the speed of light, smiling wide as he leaned closer to the box. "Techo?" He asked, nervous excitement flaring up in his chest. The three living watched as the meter on the spirit box jumped, pulsing up and down with the sound of a static-y laugh. 

"No, your box is just broken and you're hallucinating," Techno commented. He floated beside the box, grinning at Dream though he couldn't see. He'd certainly gotten older, not by much but more than Techno had himself. His hair had grown out slightly longer, and he had a thin white scar bridged across his nose. But aside from that much, he looked the same. He still looked just as he had when Techno was still alive. 

Dream laughed, not like the wheezing kind he had described to the boys earlier, this was one of surprise. "Oh my god--you're here, you guys are actually still here?" He asked, practically tearing his book out from underneath his jacket. 

The spirit box made a sharp static noise, possibly laughter. "Where would we go?" Another voice asked. Tommy and Tubbo exchanged looks once again. The realization that they were living in the home of three ghosts was still settling in slowly. 

Dream was frantically writing, his hand was flying across the page. "Wilbur?" He asked. "Is that you? Is Phil there--you're all here?" 

Some inaudible chatter came through the speakers, feedback cutting it off. Eventually, a message got through. "Dream, breathe." A third voice stated. "Yes, we're all still here," he said. 

"We never left!" Wilbur supplied. Techno watched him flip through the air, bustling around as always. He grinned and swooped down, coming up behind the two boys and patting their heads. "These guys just showed up though," The box glitched out. 

Tommy jumped when he felt the seeping cold at the top of his skull. All those cold spots, random disturbances and anything of the like...had all been dead people? "So--wait, wait, hold on, you were all just, just chilling here without saying anything?" He asked. 

"We're dead, Tommy," The first voice, 'Techno' said. "We weren't just 'chilling'."

Tommy narrowed his eyes, looking around the room aimlessly since he couldn't actually see where the ghost was. "Oh yeah? How do you know my name then?" He asked them. 

"You live in our house...?" The last voice, 'Phil', Tubbo thought his name was, said. Tommy unnarrowed his eyes and blinked. 

"Oh," he said. 

Dream looked up from his journal, looking in the general direction of the box since he couldn't actually see them. "I'm sorry, I can't believe you guys are actually here! I...I thought maybe you would have gone by now, and maybe I was too late." 

There was nothing but silence for a few moments. Everything felt still, the chill Tommy and Tubbo had felt had since moved on, which only served to make them wonder where the ghost had gone now. Finally, the box's monitor spiked. "Is that why no one ever at least comes by?" Techno asked through. "They just thought to...move on?"

Dream stopped writing and set down his pen. He pressed his lips into a line and thought about it. "It's been five years," He said, choosing his words carefully. "Admittedly, some people have completely moved on. But some haven't entirely, like, there's me for example," He said. "And Wilbur, both Niki and Fundy, they really miss you. Techno, remember Ranboo? That kid used to follow you around all the time," he said and smiled slightly. "He's seventeen now. Still talks about you sometimes, he's a good kid. And you'd better believe that people miss you Phil. Like...I'll just say it, without you the levels of odd chaos have definitely gone up in the past few years." 

"They do?" Wilbur asked as soon as Dream had stopped speaking. Niki and Fundy had been his best friends...he'd missed them so much. None of them really remembered all too much the first couple months or so after dying, but there were blurs here and there. One of those blurs that went by like a confusing streak, was that of Fundy and Niki. They had come over to the house, while it was relatively in shambles still, and only stood outside. Niki had tried to keep her resolve up, as best she could at any rate. Fundy had seemed angry. Wilbur didn't remember much of what he'd said, but he did recall watching his friend frustrated wipe his eyes, and storm off. 

He hadn't seen his friends in so very long. 

Dream nodded. "I don't really talk to either of them a lot anymore...especially Fundy, but, I couldn't imagine them not missing you," he said. 

"Did..." Tubbo started, and all attention, both living and dead, was turned to him. "Did it hurt, when you all died?" He asked. Ever since he'd seen that newspaper, he'd had the haunting question inside his head. 

The box squealed with frequency, the reaction to a scoff. "Yeah, it hurt," Techno said. "I was crushed by scaffolding, it pinned me down and I bled out. Wilbur and Phil both suffocated to death. Painful," he summarized.

Dream looked stuck for a moment. "You...got crushed by the ceiling?" He asked. He'd stopped writing in his journal all together, maybe this was the sort of thing you document later. 

If Techno nodded, no one but his brothers could see. "Bottom line," Phil said after a moment. "Yes, it did hurt. We're all still here, and it did hurt." 

Tommy had stayed respectfully silent throughout this conversation. He admittedly didn't know what to say, or even how to ask it. He looked down at his hands and nodded to some things said. After another restless bout of silence, he finally knew what he was going to say. "How did you guys die?" He asked. 

Tubbo looked over at him. "Um...Tommy? They just said that," He said, slightly confused. 

Tommy shook his head. "No, no, I know that," he explained. "I meant, what happened? How did the fire start?" He asked. 

Techno looked to Phil. Even though he knew the 'answer', he still always looked to Phil for the answer when they'd pondered it. After all, he'd been asleep when Phil had discovered the blaze. Phil only shrugged, like normal, and shook his head. "We have no idea," he said, and his brothers listened to how his voice crackled oddly through the box's speakers. "We didn't do anything wrong."

Dream sat up a little straighter after hearing that, frowning and looking slightly above the box. "Wait, you don't know?" He asked. "Didn't you guys leave the stove on? That's what the fire department told us," he said. 

Wilbur soon frowned as well, and flipped up in the air. "We had pizza that night," he said. "We didn't use the stove at all." 

"Then how did the stove burn down your house?" Tubbo asked, looking from Dream to Tommy. He settled on looking at Dream for the answer. He'd since been going through his journal again, stopping on a page scribbled in ink. 

"Okay, from my understanding, you guys have a pretty good remembrance of the day you died--maybe not so much immediately afterwards, per say, but day-of you do, right?" He asked. 

All three ghosts nodded. When there was no answer from Dream, Wilbur flipped right side up and went next to the spirit box microphone. "We all say 'yes'," he said. 

Dream nodded to himself and read over his words. "Okay, then if you guys say it didn't happen, it didn't happen," he said. "But I distinctly remember being told that they were certain your stove system had caused it. Everyone had run out to see what the big issue was, and the firemen told everyone that had happened," He said. 

"So what, the firemen lied?" Tommy asked, wrinkling his nose slightly. Regardless if he hadn't even been at the event, just the knowledge of what happened was enough to make his stomach shift uneasily. "Why would they do that?"

"Maybe they were just wrong?" Tubbo suggested, though from the way he pitched it, it didn't sound like he himself believed it. 

"How 'certain' do you say their certainties were, Dream?" Phil asked. Out of all of them, he'd been the first to accept his fate in what had happened. He usually didn't even seem bothered by the fact that he was dead. Though both Wilbur and Techno could tell that this had caught his interest. It had caught all of their interests.

"Like, 'we found all the evidence that lead to that, and there is no other way that this could have happened', type of certainty. Most of the town pushed on it for weeks that the cause be known...benefit of living in a small community I guess. Everyone wants to know everything." 

"But that's not what happened," Techno argued. "We didn't do anything wrong--what, everyone thinks we cooked ourselves to death? That it was our faults?" 

Dream shook his head. "No, no--I wouldn't phrase it that way Techno," He said. 

"That's what it sounds like," Techno argued. He was feeling restless, he didn't like this and he knew his family didn't either. They were a decently careful family, they knew how to take care of one another. There was no way that this was their fault.

He looked at his hands. As always, or at least what felt like always, he could see the floor through his palms. He could look at them, and know that they'd never be warm again, never have blood flowing through them ever again, he'd be nothing but a cold wisp forever, him and his brothers both. 

...and people thought they did that to themselves by being careless? 

"Techno?" Wilbur asked, and floated up behind him. It was easy to tell by his voice alone that he was worried. Techno shrugged him off and started for the stairway.

"I'm gonna go," He said, and flew up the stairway. 

Dream stood up. "Technoblade?" He asked, having only barely heard the other saying that he was leaving before silence on his end. 

"He left," Phil said, a tinge of worry mixed with sadness in his voice. So far, what had hopefully promised to be a good visit wasn't working out so well in that favor. "He just needs some time to...cool off." 

"Where did he go?" Dream asked, gathering up his journal and some materials. He had an actual paying job as well, and was taking time off of it to be there. He couldn't take forever, and he had wanted to talk to Techno. 

"Most likely up to the attic," Wilbur answered. "He goes up there and kinda...beats up the air with his sword," He said. 

Wasting no time, Dream speedran towards the stairway. "Okay, thank you! Just, uh--talk...? If you want? I'll be back," He said, taking himself and his materials up to the attic. He'd left the spirit box with the boys down in the living room, all he really needed was a pen and paper. 

He'd run up to the second story, and noticed the square shaped entry in the ceiling. Hopping up, he was able to grab hold of the handle and pull it free, climbing up the small set of stairs into the room. 

The sun was high, and shining light in through an open window. The room smelled faintly of smoke, probably due to whatever belongings survived the fire that were put into boxes. He pulled himself into the attic. It didn't take long for him to find what he was looking for though. 

A blade was lifted in the center of the room, slashing across the air back and forth though it had no visible owner. Judging by the sharp jabs and swings, Dream could tell Techno was upset. 

"...Hey Tech," He said and waved, not knowing if Techno was looking at him or not. "So...out of all the things to make it, the blade you used to kick my ass is one of 'em." 

There was no response, as he'd expected. He nodded and pulled out his journal again, opening to a random page and setting it on the ground near the sword. "Here," he said, and laid a pen beside it. "I don't know if you know this or not, but if you focus hard enough, you should be able to have some grip on the pen," he said and nodded to the sword. "Like your item, so that way you can just write things out."

He sat on the ground in front of the journal. He didn't know if Techno cared, or listened, but he didn't mind seeing if he could push his time and wait a little bit longer. He was always in such a rush, always trying to do things as fast as he could. He didn't want to rush a goodbye.

No, it wasn't a goodbye. It was a 'hello again'. 

After a few minutes he watched as the bed shook hesitantly, eventually writing something out on the paper's blank face. 'It wasn't our fault' Techno had written, in especially shaky handwriting. 

Dream nodded. "I know," he said. "In all honesty, I never even believed what those firemen said," he admitted. "Just didn't add up." 

The pen fell over, the sword was laid on the ground beside the book. Techno tried his hardest to lift up the pen, sitting across from and trying to write to Dream. 'Not that I care,' he wrote, and the smallest of smiles tugged at his lips. 'But it is really nice to see you'. 

Dream smiled, nodding his head quite a bit. "It's nice to even hear from you again, I missed our back-and-forths. No one else could ever do them right," he laughed. "We made a pretty good team." 

He watched as new words appeared on the page. 'Sun Tzu says: Keep your friends close, and your enemies close enough to be on the ground when you drop kick them'. 

After reading that, Dream laughed, like a deflating tea kettle. "He did not say that!" He protested after his lungs had recovered. 

'Oh yes he did'

"He really didn't," he said, smiling as he shook his head. 

Though he couldn't see it, Techno shrugged. He had to admit, he did feel slightly better. 

That is, he did until Tommy stuck his head through the attic opening. Dream looked back at Tommy, just as surprised to see him. Tommy looked at Dream, saw the book on the ground, and frowned. "What're you doing?" He asked. But before Dream could answer, Tommy shook his head. "Anyway--so, Tubbo and I, like the now-professionals we are, were talking to the other two ghosts, 'n stuff--and something very interesting came up." 

Dream waited for him to continue, as did Techno. When nothing came, Dream had to prompt. "So...?"

Tommy nodded his head. "Right, right, so, ghost-that-kept-scaring me," he started. "What if you guys were murdered?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Thank you guys so much for reading! Again, I apologized above--but I did want to bring to attention, Chapter One to my next big MCYT fanfic, "Blue Monday" is almost done and out. It's a superhero AU, and I am really trying to put a lot into it. I'm sorry for the double note this chapter, but when it comes out, would you guys be interested in it? I'm {and I know this sounds odd XD} actually trying to make 'the next Heatwaves' in terms of popularity--anyway! Thank you for sticking around this long, I shall go back to uploading regularly, please stay safe and I hope everyone has a great day or night!!)


	10. Chapter Eight: Why

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3T1K0p0U42M
> 
> Grim grinning ghosts come out to socialize.....
> 
> Also, thank all of you guys SO freaking much for all your amazing comments! I may not respond to ever single one, but I do read them all, and I absolutely love how much you guys like this story. Thank you all so much for being so amazing!!!

"I'm sorry, murdered?" Dream asked, looking over at Tommy. Though he was dead, Techno's stomach did an odd dip at the thought of it. Murdered? No, no one else was in the house with them that night, and he knew how he'd died. There was no way anyone had dropped that ceiling on him. No one locked Wilbur in his room, but himself, and Phil had been torn between saving the two. No one had physically slaughtered them. 

Tommy nodded, and pulled himself up into the attic. "Well, yeah," he said. "You all said that you didn't leave the stove on, like everyone was told and whatnot--so if it wasn't your fault and the world just wasn't having a hissy fit with lightning and such--how'd your house burn down?" 

Techno opened his mouth to answer, even if Tommy couldn't directly hear him anymore, but stopped. How...? 

Movement caught his eye and he looked at the ground beside Tommy. Wilbur's head phased through the wooden platform, and for the first time in a while, Techno's brother wasn't smiling. Wilbur tried to keep everyone else happy, a smile of some sort always trying to remain on his face. But...his eyes were wide and scared, he'd pressed his lips into a line and was shaking his head slightly. "No," he finally said. "That...that can't be right, right?" 

"I..." Techno started, and shook his head. Normally, he'd have a quip for this sort of thing. But he just couldn't make one of the situation. "I don't know Wilbur." 

Having not heard the conversation between the two ghosts, Dream was still trying to wrap his head around the suggested basis. "Tommy," he started and ran a hand through his hair. He had no idea how to start this. "I know that you mean well, but...that doesn't really seem like a solid idea. This isn't a large town, I know practically everyone here," He said and gestured with his hands. "And...well, I can't think of anyone that would torch three people--that we all knew, no less--in their own house." 

Tommy frowned. "Well, a murderer isn't just gonna be like 'ha ha, you all trusted me but I killed three people'--have you never seen a movie, man? The bad guy is always either someone super obvious, or someone that's really trusted and then, BOOM! You've just been Hans-ed from Frozen, and he's the bad guy." 

"He's right!" Tubbo called from the bottom of the attic stairs, and started climbing up himself. "It's always either the ones you suspect, or the ones you never do," He said ominously as he entered the area and sat beside Tommy. 

Phil came up behind him, giving Techno an odd, but obviously grave, look. "Well--who would do that?" Wilbur asked, looking between the two other ghosts. "Who--Who would want us dead?" 

Looking at the window, Phil closed his eyes and thought of how to go about this the right way. What if Tommy and Tubbo were right? He himself couldn't think of anyone who held that sort of hatred towards them, any one of them in fact, but that didn't mean it wasn't entirely impossible, right? There were always victims of random, uncalculated murders--he just didn't want to think that he and his family had been those said victims. "I don't know Will," He said finally, and turned his attention back to him. "I really don't." 

Dream looked back to his journal to see if anything else had been written. Since Tommy had entered the attic, Techno had since stopped writing. He glanced down at his watch and bit back a curse. "I...shit, I have to go," he said and started standing up. He gathered up his journal and pen, looking around the room. "I am...firstly, so very sorry for what happened to you three. And, I do miss you guys, lots of us still do. I'll come back as soon as I can, but, I gotta run," He said regretfully, and sped his way over to the attic ladder. He began climbing down, and paused to once more stick his head through the open entrance. "I'll be back." 

With that, everyone watched him disappear back into the house below. Techno stuck his head through the floor, just in time to see his friend rush out the door, in a hurry as always. It kind of...hurt, he supposed, to have just that little bit of familiar interaction gone so soon after it had come back in his life. But, Dream had promised to come back. And maybe, he'd believe him on that. 

He'd pulled his head back into the attic after hearing Tommy give one of his sharp awkward laughs. "Well..." the teen trailed off, and clapped is hands together once. He looked at Tubbo and shrugged his shoulders. "I have no idea what I'm supposed to say to dead people Tubbo." 

Tubbo nodded in agreement, he felt just about the same way. "Well...we are, really, really sorry to hear about your possible-murders," he said. 

"And all around, the dying part of your life," Tommy added. 

"Yes, we're also very sorry to hear about that," Tubbo said, nodding his head enthusiastically to agree with Tommy. 

They waited for some sort of answer...before realizing that even if the Watsons were responding to them, they'd have no idea. 

Tommy's eyes widened and he leaned over to the entrance of the attic. "Oi! Dream! You still--" he started, before noticing that the man was nowhere to be seen. Instead, there was the small black box sitting on the coffee table downstairs. Even from up there, Tommy could tell that Dream had left his spirit box. 

"He left his box," Tubbo noticed from over Tommy's shoulder, and began heading down the stairway to get it. Tommy and the ghosts watched him go down, walking all the way almost out of sight to retrieve the box. 

"What're you gonna do with that?" Tommy called, leaning forward to try and see Tubbo more. He felt a chill on his shoulder, something holding him firm from falling over. He looked over, and half expected to see a dead man standing there beside him. But there was nothing but empty, chilling air. 

"I wanna see if we can talk to the ghosts!" Tubbo answered, already walking back up the staircase with the box in hand. The screen wasn't on, and the ever present crackling had seemingly stopped. He didn't really seem to notice as he climbed back up the ladder, holding the box out for Tommy to take so he himself didn't fall over. 

The room only seemed to dip in temperature, getting slightly colder by the second as Tommy tried to turn on the box himself. Admittedly, he hadn't really been paying attention when Dream had done it, and was now only slightly regretting it. "Have you tried turning it off and then on again?" Tubbo suggested.

Tommy gave himself a break from assaulting the box and gave his friend a deadpan stare. "No, Tubbo. I haven't tried that, on the off machine that I can't turn on." 

"But the button's right here," Tubbo said and leaned over, flicking a small switch on the side of the box. "The wires are all still plugged in and stuff," He explained as the machine began to hum to life. 

Tommy watched the box begin to crackle, the screen waking up to show the reading dial. "I knew that!" He said, only somewhat defensively. "I knew exactly what I was--" he started. 

He was cut off by the sound of crying. The box was pulsing with the staticky sound, the dial jumping up to signify that it was hearing something. Both Tommy and Tubbo looked at the box, neither of them were expecting that. 

"It's okay," They could hear. Phil was comforting whoever it was on the other side, which at least meant that the ghosts were still inside the room (not that the cold alone couldn't tell the boys that). The crier sniffled in response, trying to keep themselves quiet. 

"But did we do something wrong?" They asked, and since Tubbo had been trying to match voices to names, he now knew the ghost that had been crying was Wilbur. "I didn't think we did anything wrong. All I did was write songs. And make friends. I-I'm sure I did some things wrong, but...why did we deserve this? Why do I deserve this?" 

The audio sparked and cut out for a moment. By the time it returned, Techno was already speaking. "--deserve it. We didn't. Certainly not you, and not Phil either. No one's perfect, but we were good people. So...don't think like that. And, don't cry...there there," he said, somewhat awkwardly. Despite the awkward factor, it was still obvious that he did mean what he'd said. They had been good people. 

They didn't deserve that. 

Tubbo had been looking at the ground. It must have been awful. It must have been awful being dead, even more so having no idea why you had to go. He knew that if anything like that had happened to him, he would have wanted to know why he had to leave. Why he wasn't given a chance at a "nice long life", like seemingly everyone else deserved. He would have wanted to know why he'd have to leave his parents and sisters, why he'd have to leave Tommy and his friends. The Watsons didn't know why they had to go, and that just...it wasn't fair. 

They deserved to know. 

"Y'Know..." He said after a moment, he decided to be respectful and take it easy since obviously, this was a sensitive subject. "I think that no one deserves this sort of thing. No one--except maybe really, really bad criminals, and not even really then either. Because this is awful, and it isn't fair that you guys have been left here with, with practically no answers. There has to be an answer, surely."

"And Tubbo and I are gonna help you guys find it," Tommy said, deciding that on the spot. It made him...kind of angry, if he'd admit it, to think about how they had just been left in that house alone for years, with no one trying to figure out what really happened. It annoyed him, no one deserved to be forgotten about. 

Tubbo turned his head quickly to look at him. In all honesty, he hadn't expected that answer from Tommy--at least, not so quickly. A smile spread across his face and he nodded. "Yeah! We'll look around the town, investigate for clues! And, we can talk to you guys now, so, you can help us and all that!" 

From his spot floating next to Wilbur, Techno blinked in surprise. That didn't make any sense. These kids didn't know them, they weren't family or old friends--hell, they didn't even know they were sharing a house with ghosts until half an hour ago. What was this? "Why do you want to help?" He asked, frankly a little suspicious. 

"Because. You did not deserve this," Tommy said, serious. Techno knew that the kid couldn't see him, but it felt like he was staring at him directly. 

"And besides--we're practically roomates now! Tommy and I don't have any plans to leave soon, we just got here. We might as well all get along, and don't you think a great way to do that is to...oh, I don't know. Solve your guys' death?" He asked.

The box fell silent. For a moment, Tubbo wondered if he'd accidently offended them. He looked to Tommy, whom looked just as clueless as he was, and then around the room. It was certainly warmer now, the late afternoon sun warming up the room with a nice glow. Did that mean the ghosts had left? 

The sound of Phil's laughter through the spirit box proved this theory wrong. Despite the fact that it was laced with static, both boys couldn't help but smile at the infectious noise. "You boys are crazy, you know that?" The older ghost chuckled. "You find out your house is haunted, and one of your first instincts is to make friends with and help them." 

Tubbo nodded. "I've heard of Undertale," he said with a confident nod. "I know how the love versus hate thing works." 

Tommy nodded. "But then again, we're just super helpful and interesting, 'breed: different', someone would say," he rambled, obviously joking, but enjoying the way that it all seemed to be running. 

"Did you just verbally say 'breed: different'?" Wilbur asked after a moment, and began laughing. He no longer sounded sad like before, instead, he sounded excited. Hopeful, even. 

"Damn right he did," Tubbo said, smiling. 

A cold breeze passed between the two boys. "And you guys actually want to help us? For real?" Techno asked. If Tommy would believe it, even he sounded slightly interested. 

He glanced over at Tubbo and made up his mind. There wouldn't be peace this summer, no, no. There would be justice, and an adventure that frankly neither of them had ever thought was possible. "Damn right we are!" He declared, grinning wide. This was going to work, they were going to help the Watsons. 

"So," Tubbo grinned. "Where do we start?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Hello lovelies! I am so sorry about the 1 day delay, I'm trying to refrain from doing that, and be on a normal schedule for you all. Thank you guys so much for supporting me, I can't wait for the following chapters to come out!! Stay safe and have a wonderful day or night!)


	11. Chapter Nine: The Bakery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3T1K0p0U42M
> 
> Grim grinning ghosts come out to socialize...

"Notebook?"

"Check."

"Stories?"

"Straight."

"Snacks?"

"Eaten."

"Gre--" Tommy started and then frowned, turning around. "Tubbo did you eat the snacks already?" He asked, looking over his friend as they packed their backpacks for the day. The plan was, that they were going to venture out into the town of L'Manburg, and investigate as many civilians as possible. As wide spread and odd as the plan sounded, it would at least give them a sense of who's who in the town, and who to keep their eyes on as possible murder suspects.

Since they'd gone over this plan with the Watsons, they'd started compiling a list of things they'd need for a 'proper' interrogation of the town ("we're like Nancy Drew!" Tommy had said). This list included the staples, such as notebooks and pens, voice recorders on their phones, and as Tommy had insisted, snacks.

However it seemed as though they were unprepared in one of those aspects.

"...No," Tubbo answered his question after a moment and shook his head. "Well, maybe. But it's fine, we have more," He said, and put another small pack of gummy worms inside of his bag. Tommy rolled his eyes, clapping his hands together as he looked down into his inventory.

"Alright! Now, all we have to do is catch a killer!" He said, seemingly almost alarmingly excited. He swung a strap over his shoulder and looked around the room. Maybe he'd forgotten something, though he wasn't sure what that something could be.

There came a crackling sound, like a radio trying to collect signal. Over the past couple of hours, both boys had gotten used to the unusual sound. "Now all you have to do is find evidence that there even is a killer," Techno corrected.

Outside of the boys' sight, he swirled around the spirit box, arms crossed over his chest. He didn't really like how sure these two were that his family's death had been something someone had hoped for. "We still don't know that that's one hundred percent."

"We're pretty sure," Tubbo said as he double checked all his materials. "I mean, it makes sense, yeah? None of you did anything wrong, and there was no big storm or weird weather patterns--you said so yourselves," He said and looked to the box. "So, it must have not been an accident."

Wilbur's head popped up from underneath the ground, watching Tubbo with interest. "You sound so sure about that," he said. "Makes me wonder."

Tommy snorted and turned around, placing his hands on his hips. "Wonder what, Wil? We all know it's probably gonna be some crusty old real estate manager or something--it always is! I see it all the time on Scooby-Doo."

Tubbo agreed and laughed about this point with Tommy, while on another plane of existence Techno turned to his brother situated in the floorboards. "We're doomed," he said.

Tommy spun around to look at the spirit box. "Oi! I heard that!" He said and turned his head away from it as a dismissive tactic. This reaction earned a chuckle from Phil from the box.

"Regardless of your prior, erm...training, be safe. And try not to scare all of our friends to death?" He suggested.

With an eyeroll and a sarcastic salute, Tommy nodded his head. "Aye aye Ghostie," he said and looked to the door. "We won't send anyone your way."

"Yeah, no one's gonna die!" Tubbo said with a wide smile that was meant to be reassuring, but really seemed concerning.

Tommy laughed somewhat nervously, or rather confused, at the sentence. "Jesus Tubbo--no one's gonna die. Calm yourself."

Tubbo put up his hands and shrugged. He started walking towards the door, gesturing for Tommy to follow. "We'll be careful, and we'll be back soon!"

"Good luck!" Wilbur's voice cackled from the spirit box, the boys could practically visualize the wave that accompanied the call.

Tommy nodded and held the door open for Tubbo. He looked back at the living room. It looked...empty. It looked just as it had the day that the boys had arrived, barley over two weeks ago. It had been cleaned, looking slightly less dusty and forgotten as it had before, though it still seemed still. It felt odd, to know that somewhere in that room, three men were stood, or seated, or simply just floating about—looking at them. Three men were there, still inhabiting their house, still "living" there as it were...even though they were dead.

And just looking at the room, you would have never guessed.

Tommy nodded his head and looked to the empty room, turned serious for a moment. "We'll find answers," he said. "We will."

And with that, he swung the door closed, and walked out. 

There were surprisingly lot of citizens in the small-looking town of L'Manburg.

When Tommy and Tubbo had first descended from the primarily residential area, they'd almost immediately been greeted with a controlled sort of bustle. People rushed back and forth from shops and crosswalks, a school in the distance calmly filling up with kids, a park behind the stores lined with green grass and open space. It seemed...nice. Cozy.

And also kind of a great place for a murderer to blend in.

"Where do we start?" Tubbo asked, looking left and right across their limited view of the town. "There are admittedly a feeeew more people than I anticipated."

"Tell me about it," Tommy said, frowning in annoyance. He thought this would be somewhat easier, just look for the shiftiest person there.

Sadly, these people all seemed somehow normal.

"We should split up and look for clues," Tommy said. "That way, we'll meet up with different notes and try to, I don't know, match them?" He suggested.

Tubbo frowned in confusion and looked to his backpack. "Does that ever actually work in Scooby-Doo? Don't people get kidnapped often?" He asked.

Kidnapped? Tommy thought, and the idea of the word and the thought of Tubbo even in the same spot inside his head didn't let his stomach sit right. No, no. That might have worked for a bunch of American teens; but that did not work for Tommy.

"That's a shit idea Tubbo—I don't wanna get kidnapped by some weirdo with a white van," he said and wrinkled his nose. "Can't believe you said that—let's just stick together to avoid it."

Tubbo looked over at him with an ever so slightly amused expression. "Uh, Tommy? That was your 'shit idea'," he said. Before he could get another syllable in, Tommy had dramatically thrown his arms out into the air.

"We're not gonna separate," he decided and looked over where he was again. "We're gonna goooo..." he said and his gaze settled on a small store off the side of the road. "There!"

He grabbed Tubbo's wrist and tugged him along, the brunet willingly being pulled behind him. They made their way down the street and stopped before a shop. The windows held displays of wonderful looking sweets and pastries, light pastel and mellow colors made the whole place seem soft and welcoming. On a white fringed sign dangled above the doorway read in elegant swirly font, was written 'Niki's bakery•pastries•bread'.

Tubbo turned to look at Tommy. "Did your 'excellent detective abilities' bring you here, or was it your nose?" He joked slightly, looking at the bakery.

Tommy shrugged. "A little bit of column A, a little bit of column B," he said and pulled open the door handle. A little bell jingled at the movement, like little fairies. "After you," Tommy dipped slightly like an awkward bow to his friend, and Tubbo snickered into his hand as they entered.

Instantly Tommy loved it inside. It smelled wonderful—the scent of sweet cakes and freshly baked bread wafted throughout the entire shop. There was a glass display case towards the front, and a girl busying herself socializing with a costumer. She had soft, light pink hair, and a wide smile. She wore an apron with the bakery logo on it, and Tommy could only obviously tell that this was Niki. One of Wilbur's old friends, Dream had said.

Niki finally seemed to notice the two boys standing at the entrance and smiled. "Oh! Hello there," she said and took a step back. "Sorry; I didn't see you there," she said as a slightly embarrassed greeting. She situated herself behind the cash register and smiled at them, before looking back at the other customer Tommy hadn't really noticed yet—somehow.

Niki nodded her head to the costumer. "Well, as always, come back any time Ran—" she started, and was cut off.

"Holy shit you are huge!" Tommy shouted instantly once he had finally noticed the utter mountain of a man that stood beside Niki. The guy turned around, presumably watching the two from where he stood. The reason Tubbo had difficulty solidifying where he was looking, was because of the black sunglasses and black and white mask this blond stranger adorned.

"I uh...I guess?" The tall man said, shrugging his shoulders slightly. "I mean, you're also pretty tall, so--" 

"But why are you so tall?" Tubbo asked, feeling much smaller than he usually did just standing beside Tommy alone. "You're like--a whole foot taller than me!" 

The guy gave a little laugh and nodded. "Yeah, yeah look's like I am," He said. "So, uh--I'm gonna be on my way now, nice to...meet you?" He asked, not sure of what to say, seeing as that wasn't at all a proper introduction. 

Tommy shook his head out and nodded. "I'm Tommy, but you can call me Big Man," He started before gesturing to Tubbo. "And this is Tubbo! You can call him...Tubbo." 

Tubbo waved and the guy did as well as he walked towards the exit, stopping to be formal. "I'm Ranboo--now, it's nice to meet you," He said and gave them a little nod before walking to the exit. He waved back at Niki and left after a moment. 

Tommy and Tubbo stood there in silence a moment before Tommy cursed, stamping his foot on the ground and turning around. "Dammit! We forgot to interrogate him!" He said. 

"Well if that's the same Ranboo that Dream mentioned, then he was like, twelve at the time," Tubbo reminded him. 

"Twelve year olds can still be arsonist murderers! Have you ever seen a twelve year old Tubbo? They're vicious!" 

The two looked to the counter after hearing a small giggle. Niki had covered her mouth with her hand and shook her head. "Sorry, I didn't mean to overhear," she apologized. "It's just...you boys are so funny, what're you talking about? Ranboo's not a murderer, he's a sweetheart. Nobody here is one." 

"A sweetheart or a murderer?" Tubbo asked. 

"The latter," Niki told him. Tommy wasn't convinced, and walked up to the counter. He swung his bag over his shoulder and dug through for his notebook and a pen. 

"See, while you might think so, we have reason to believe that someone--or a 'someones', plural, if you will--here is a murderer," He said and flipped open the book. "How would you like to be interrogated?" 

Niki looked at him in confusion. "Excuse me?" She asked, not sure what was happening. "You think it's me? I'm not a murderer--I never could be!" She said. 

"That's what a murderer would say," Tubbo added from beside Tommy. "Not to be that person," he added. 

Niki shook her head again and reached down beneath the register. She pulled out an old looking white binder with doodles and post it notes. It looked nice, save for the old and fading stickers of whales randomly placed around. "Look, this is my record book," she told the boys and opened it, exposing many pages with hand writing scraggled down. "I fill it out every day while I'm at work, when I come in, what I do, and when I leave. This'll tell you two that I have a good alibi--not to mention, everyone in this town knows me, I would never be a murd--" she started and her eyes widened. "Wait, why are you asking about this, who got murdered?" 

"Well...about that," Tubbo started and looked at Tommy as a sort of 'I've got this'. "We're actually looking into a few old murders," He said, presenting himself as he would were he ever to actually be a lawyer. "The Watsons, my partner and I have some know-how that you knew one of the brothers?" 

Niki's expression faltered and slowly dropped as he talked. She looked at the counter, a very obvious sadness filled the air that Tommy didn't necessarily like...but he could understand why it was there. 

"Yeah," She said after a moment, nodding solemnly. "Yeah I was. I mean, I knew and liked all of them," she said. "But, one of them was one of my...best friends. Wilbur. We went to school with each other our whole lives--his, whole life," She corrected sadly. "Him, Fundy and I were really...really close, you know?" She said and looked back at them. 

Tommy nodded. "Yeah...yeah, we uh, heard that," He said. He didn't want to seem insensitive, but he had the urge to ask more questions. "D'you know what happened to him?" He asked.

She nodded her head. "Yeah, his house burned down five years ago. Him, and Techno and Phil...well, you already know if you're asking," She tried to laugh it off, but it was obvious that the conversation had changed her mood. "Why are you asking? They weren't murdered." 

"Well--about that too," Tubbo said. "We have some...new evidence that maybe that's not the case," He said. 

Niki turned her attention to him very quickly. "What? Do you mean--" she started and was cut off by the sound of little fairies, the bell dangling from her door. 

Tommy and Tubbo turned around to see who it was, Tommy slightly hoped it was that Ranboo fellow so they could actually get an interrogation. But, it wasn't Ranboo. In the doorway stood a man in a suit, clean and polished, totally contrary to the New York cap that sat on his dark hair. The man with the muttonchops spread his arms and grinned at the three, though he was primarily looking to Niki. "Niki, pleasure to see you again! You got your tax pay?" He asked. There was an odd sharpness to the words that made Tubbo uneasy. 

Niki narrowed her eyes only slightly. "Mayor Schlatt," she said. "What a surprise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of you are so lovely, have a wonderful day or night!


	12. Chapter Ten: The Podium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3T1K0p0U42M
> 
> Grim grinning ghosts come out to socialize....
> 
> Hey guys, I wanted to make an apology to you guys. My brain hasn't been in a great place as of late, and as of last week (splendidly at the time for this upload), I guess it all caught up with me. I am glad to say that I do feel a little better, and am able to happily return to my regular upload schedule. I'm sorry I took an extra week, but, I am back :). I hope you all enjoy, and have an amazing day or night.

"Niki, you act upset to see me," The man in the doorway said, walking over to the three by the counter as though he owned the place. Judging by the way he greeted Niki, Tubbo figured, he might. 

"I'm just never prepared for your little visits, Mayor," Niki said, and it sounded to Tommy like she was choosing her words carefully. The Mayor looked towards the white binder Niki still had open for the boys and eyed it carefully, almost like he was suspicious of it. Before either of them could say anything about it, the man turned to look at Tommy and Tubbo.

"Who are you?" He asked and moved his index finger between the two of them. "You didn't suddenly have kids somehow, did you?" He asked Niki, who didn't seem to be any more comfortable than when he'd arrived. 

"I'm Tommy, this is Tubbo," Tommy offered immediately. He took a somewhat protective stance, though he couldn't have explained it if anyone asked. The Mayor looked the two over for himself, nodding along in an obviously unimpressed manner. 

"Alright, well, that's not my business," He said and shrugged, eyes falling once again on the binder. "What is possibly my business is, what do you have there Niki?" 

Niki's eyes widened slightly, and she grabbed the edge of the binder. "Just, records, Schlatt," she said dismissively. "Orders to keep track of, and things like that."

An uncomfortable silence draped itself over the room, lasting only a few moments long before Tubbo piped up. "She's helping us solve a murder," He said and shrugged. 

Tommy gave him a look, obviously this Mayor guy had a vibe about him, and he didn't know if he could be trusted yet. Tommy certainly didn't want to trust a wrongen. 

"A murder you say?" Schlatt asked and got an amused expression, throwing his head back to laugh at the idea. "Oh, that's a funny joke. I hope you kids have fun playing detective, but no one's ever been offed like that here." 

Tubbo raised an eyebrow and looked to Tommy. That didn't seem likely to him. Even if they hadn't spoken to the ghosts of the potential victims, he still wouldn't have believed the Mayor. Every town has it's secrets, even more so, their secret villains. "Are you sure?" He asked. 

Schlatt's laugh turned sharp and abrupt. "Yes I'm sure," he said and took a step towards the two. "I run this place, there's nothing that I don't know."

Tommy noticed the way Niki's eyes flittered over to the other end of the shop. 

"Noth--" Tubbo started, and was cut off. 

"Nothing, kid. Look, don't you two have something better to do? Anything better to do?" He asked. It was clear from his tone of voice that he wasn't really asking them so much as telling them to leave. 

Niki closed her binder and slid it in the space behind the counter. "Maybe you should ask someone else," She told the boys kindly. "I doubt I would be of any help in this situation, and I unfortunately have, an appointment. Besides," She said, and side eyed the Mayor from her counter. "Nothing bad ever happens here." 

Tommy clapped his hands together after a moment of chilling silence, and suppressed a nervous laugh. "We-he-hell, I guess Tubs and I are just gonna...go," He said and started walking towards the exit, grabbing Tubbo's sleeve just a little to signal that he should follow. He grabbed the doorknob and swung open the door, both him and Tubbo looking back at Niki before they left. 

"It was nice to meet you," Tubbo said, and looked at Niki longer than he did the Mayor. The man...unnerved him slightly. But it wasn't his mannerisms so much as his vague ominous familiarity. 

Niki nodded to the two. "It was nice meeting you too, I wish you...luck, on your trip," She said. The boys nodded and started to leave the shop before she called after them. "Oh, wait!" 

Tommy bent over backwards--quite literally--to dip his head back through the door. "Yes?"

Ignoring how impatient Schlatt looked, Niki pointed to her left. "You two should check out the town library," She said. "You might find something you're looking for there." 

A library. That sounded like a fantastic idea, if anything, there would at least be someone there to interrogate and ask. "Thank you!" Tubbo said and nodded his head. "We'll do that!" 

Niki nodded and opened her mouth to say more. "Taxes, Niki. Do you or do you not have your taxes?" Schlatt interjected, sounding both annoyed and bored. Niki closed her mouth, and offered Tommy and Tubbo only a small smile before she disappeared into a back room. 

"I don't think I liked that Mayor fellow," Tommy said as he and Tubbo walked side by side through L'Manburg. He had his arms stretched behind his head as he looked around. The sun was dipping beneath the horizon, tall trees that were caught in front of it cascaded shadows like tall bony fingers across the ground. Soon the soft pinks and oranges of the sky would fade away into black, stars would speckle that black sheet, and things would start to wind down for the day.

Unfortunately, that meant that the library would probably be closing soon. 

"He seemed kind of mean," Tubbo said as they walked, he was looking at the flowers that were set outside the shop where the strawberry-dress man worked. Admittedly he was looking at the flowers out of curiosity that there would be bees, but they were still very pretty to see. "And unfriendly."

"I think unfriendly is mean, Tubbo," Tommy said, but nodded along none the less. 

The two continued to make small conversation as they looked around--neither of them exactly knew where the library was, and their best bet had turned into wandering around. Eventually though, the two were able to find the building. 

It seemed like any library, a small set of stairs leading up to a platform entrance and a set of doors. Thin and somewhat tall pillars propped up a canopy over the platform, and added a sort of decorative yet purposeful feel to the place. The building was made of wood, with windows placed in appropriate spaces. 

Tommy groaned when he saw it. "Oh no, I should have known this was going to be boring," He said and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands.

"It could be helpful though...?" Tubbo said, phrasing it like a question because he too was fighting off a bored remark. 

The taller of the two sighed and nodded, walking towards the doors. "I guess so," He said and paused to look at the indent on the doorknobs. It was like a swirl, only slightly boxy-er. He didn't pay it any mind and pulled open the doors. 

Immediately, Tubbo was almost decapitated by a book. 

He yelped and ducked underneath it just in time, the leather bound projectile sailing over his head and tumbling down the stairs behind them. Both teens looked back see a book tossed pages down onto the pavement. 

"It's not there either!" They could hear someone's muffled voice exclaim, and turned back to look inside the entrance of the library. A man was leaning forwards far into a large cardboard box near the front of the room. The green and purple checkered carpet was overrun with books laying about, and the man just kept on adding more. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a multicolored sweater. 

"No!" The man groaned again and threw out yet another book, almost hitting Tommy. 

"Oi!" He exclaimed and ducked just a little bit behind Tubbo. "What're you doing all this for?" 

The man stopped his rummaging and sat up, turning around to face them. "I can't find it," He said, not bothering to elaborate. "And besides, these are all the old books." 

"Doesn't mean you need to be throwing them every which way," Tommy muttered before shaking it off. "What're you looking for?" 

The man got off of the ground and brushed himself off. "My journal," He said. "I must've dropped it in the box while I was going through everything, and now I can't find it."

"What's it look like?" Tubbo asked, looking back at the one that almost took his head off. 

"Brown with white pages and words on the front," The man said, rather unhelpfully. "It's got to be around here somewhere..." 

Begrudgingly, Tommy started looking around the books. He didn't feel like doing a side quest at the moment, but if he needed to, he would. Thankfully, he didn't have to for long. Tubbo had left the library and walked back in with the book thrown outside, frowning as he brushed it off. "Is this it?" He asked and held it out to the man. 

When he saw it, his eyes widened a little bit. "Hey, that's it! Where'd you get it?" 

"You accidentally threw it at my head...?" 

The man blushed in embarrassment and took the journal. "I'm sorry about that. I must've not noticed that was it...I have a bad memory, that's why I have it in the first place," He rambled and laughed it off. "Sorry! My name's Karl, what can I do for you?" 

Tommy stepped over a few stray books and walked over to Karl, clamping his hand on his shoulder. "Well, Karl," he started. "We were wondering if you could help the two of us detectives detective some stuff out." 

"Detective out a murder, actually," Tubbo added. 

Karl looked between the two of them. "You two are trying to solve a murder?" He asked. "Why? Who--did someone die?"

Tommy shook his head as he scanned the bookshelves. "No, not recently anyway. We're looking into old stuff, old killings--that way we can keep the whole town from being haunted," He nodded, puffing his chest out just a little bit. 

"I don't know anything about old murders...but I guess I could get you two the town records? I can't let you leave the library with those, but I wouldn't mind helping you go through them," Karl offered. Goal wise, Tubbo knew that this was a good thing. But he couldn't help but think of what a pain it was going to be to go through everything. 

"I've never read any record other than the amount of girlfriends I have," Tommy said and then shrugged. "But oh well, let's see if these are longer than an amount of women." 

The records were definitely lengthier than any list of women Tubbo had ever seen. 

They'd set up their station on one of the tables that Karl's library had tucked around the bookshelves, and before either of them knew what had happened, the entire table top was covered with file boxes. "Those are all from the last ten years," Karl told them as he set down the last box. "Let men know if you need anything further back, I'll be in earshot," He said and hummed to himself as he walked away to pick up his discarded books. 

"Holy shit!" Tommy exclaimed and looked at the boxes in front of them. "This is going to take forever--ohhh, those ghosts better be so grateful when we get back," He grumbled and began sifting through a box. He found files stacked together, listing things from birth and death dates, all the way to festival attractions. After a while, he glanced over at Tubbo, who had seemingly been stuck on the same folder for a while. Tommy of course wasn't going to rush him, and decided that maybe he'd take most of the reading load. 

They looked through folders for what felt like an eternity, though it was probably only a couple of hours at best. Tommy's back ached from bending over boxes, and his brain wasn't too happy with the effort that he was making it go through. He had taken most of the reading, and helped Tubbo where he could in a few places, but he was starting to get tired. Maybe they should call it a night and tell the Watsons they'd finish tomorrow. 

Just as he was thinking this, Tubbo tugged on his sleeve. "Hey Tommy?" He asked, looking about as tired as Tommy was. "What does this say?" 

He handed over a folder that had been opened to a written document, some newspaper article from almost six or seven years ago was stapled to it. Tubbo pointed at a line from the document, and Tommy went to translate aloud. "'And it's to be recorded that both candidates are eligible to run, enlisting them both into the first of its kind, the Senior Electoral Leadership program of our town...'," Tommy felt bored just reading it. "It doesn't look important Big Man." 

Tubbo frowned and took back the folder, this time pointing at a photograph that was on the stapled article. "But isn't that Wilbur?" He asked. 

"Wait what?" Tommy asked, and this time paid more attention to the article, dated after the document. That was the first time all night any of the Watsons had popped up in anything beyond school and funeral home records. In the photo, Wilbur was standing behind a podium, addressing whatever group of people were surrounding or behind the camera. He had a wide smile and seemed very happy to be there. Tommy could see Fundy and Niki in the corner of the photo, holding a sign that he couldn't read and cheering. The photo was captioned with Wilbur being the winner of whatever the SEL Program was--and everyone seemed happy. Everyone that is, aside from the person sitting in a chair behind Wilbur and the podium. 

The man was younger than Tommy and Tubbo recognized, frowning and observing with his arms crossed. It almost took Tommy a second to place it, but it came to him very quickly as soon as he made the connection. "Tubbo, isn't that...?" He started, and gave Tubbo a better view of the photo. 

The man in the back was slightly grainy, but, his New York cap was very easy to recognize. 

"Mayor Schlatt looks pissed," Tubbo remarked, taking the article back for himself to look it over. 

"Correction Tubbo," Tommy said and turned his attention to his friend. "Mayor Schlatt looks murderous."


	13. Chapter Eleven: Just A Shadow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/3T1K0p0U42M
> 
> Grim grinning ghosts come out to socialize....

Karl had been very helpful to them, which is probably why Tubbo felt slightly bad for him and Tommy sprinting out of the library as quickly as they could.

"Did you get everything you needed?" Karl called after them, left inside the doorway of the building.

Tommy nodded and spun around, running through the area backwards. "Yeah! Thanks K-Man!" He shouted as he ran. Tubbo stayed beside him to make sure he didn't run into anything, or anyone.

The two sprinted through the now empty streets of the town, racing as fast as they could to get back to the ghosts. Tommy considered this to be just the lead they'd been looking for. Surely Wilbur would remember what this program was, and be able to elaborate more on the Mayor's actions after apparently losing. It was a perfect win-win situation. They got more information, they learn more about the Mayor--they might even arrest themselves a murderer.

Wishful and very hopefully thinking, but it was enough to motivate both of them to get back to the house as quickly as possible.

Tubbo double checked that the photo was still in his camera roll (having taken a photo of the document and article) as he ran. He wanted to make sure that they hadn't gone rushing off without everything they needed. He had glanced down at the screen, he'd swear for only a moment to check on the photo.

Two seconds later he found himself sprawled out on the ground, taking someone else down with him.

"Tubbo!" Tommy skittered to a stop and came over, clicking his tongue a little as he did. "And you lecture me about crashing into people," He said with a quick laugh. Despite the taunt, he did feel actually worried, and knelt down next to him. "Are you okay though?"

"Yeah," Tubbo winced. A good portion of his knee had been scraped up from the impact of falling, and so were his hands. "I kinda just wish I could crash as gracefully as you do," he grumbled the joke. Tommy somehow always emerged okay whenever he ran into civilians.

Oh right, Tubbo thought. The civilian.

Someone sat up from the other side of Tubbo, having fallen backwards after the collision. "Sorry about that," They said and stretched out their arm. "I probably should have been paying more attention..."

Tubbo shook his head. "You're okay, it was my fault," He said and looked at the person to apologize. When he did, he felt a little bad, because how on earth had he missed this guy? It was the really tall guy from Niki's bakery.

Tall Guy, Tommy couldn't remember his name, waved it off and adjusted his gloves. "I wasn't paying attention either, maybe it's both our faults?" He suggested light heartedly. Afterwards, he looked over Tommy and Tubbo. "I...recognize you guys," He said, like he was focusing. "Were you two at Niki's earlier?"

Tommy nodded, helping Tubbo up. "Yeah, we were--hey, aren't you that massive fellow?" He asked and looked at Tubbo. "How did you miss him?"

"I don't know, why didn't you warn me?" Tubbo replied quickly.

Tommy closed his eyes and dramatically placed his hand on his chest. "Because I was busy looking the correct direction, the one I wasn't supposed to."

"Ah yes, that direction," Tubbo nodded. The two looked over when they heard Tall Guy snickering.

"Wow, you guys get along really well," He said, and after he'd gotten to his feet himself, held out Tubbo's phone to him. "I'm Ranboo by the way, nice to meet you again."

Tommy snapped his fingers. "That's right! Ranboob!"

"Wait, no--it's Ranboo--"

"Same difference," Tommy waved it off.

Tubbo meanwhile took his phone back from Ranboo gratefully. "Thanks for..." He started, and stopped when he realized Ranboo's grip hadn't let go of the phone. He frowned a little and looked, admittedly, up slightly, to Ranboo's face. The other boy was still wearing his black and white face mask, but didn't have his sunglasses on, as it was night time. Even without the full facial expression visible, Tubbo could see something in Ranboo's eyes that hadn't been there before he saw the picture on the screen.

A moment later, Tubbo realized Ranboo looked scared.

"Ranboo? Is everything alright?" He asked, more confused than anything. At the mention of is name, Ranboo seemed to snap out of it, letting go of Tubbo's phone and in term, pulling his hands back to his chest.

He nodded. "Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Sorry about that, and running into you," he started, and began walking away. He backed himself up away and towards a small path way leading to the houses by the wide of the woods. "Have a nice night," He told the two and gave them another hesitant nod before turning away, and walking into the foliage.

The two other boys watched his form disappear down the path, all the way until the sound of his mumbling disappeared, and he was just a shadow in the night's darkness.

"...that was kind of suspicious," Tommy noted, breaking the silence as he looked to where Ranboo had gone.

"Maybe it really was the twelve year old," Tubbo said, sounding shocked.

Tommy shook his head. "I seriously doubt it, but....maybe..." he said and shook his head. His eyes caught on Tubbo's phone screen, noticing the white box signaling a very low battery. "TUBBO!" He screamed, causing the other to scream along.

"What?" Tubbo asked, and looked side to side quickly. 

Tommy started shoving him forward, moving the two of them along quickly. "Just, we gotta move, move, move!" He instructed, moving both of them quickly to the house.

"Is it the Mayor?" Tubbo asked, slightly worried as he tried to look over his shoulder.

"No."

"A knife wielding maniac?"

"No, Technoblade can't leave the house."

"He wields a sword, Tommy--wait, is it more ghosts? Are we being hunted down by ghosts?" He asked frantically, and tried looking over his shoulder again.

"What? No, your phone is about to die with all of our evidence," Tommy said at last, and Tubbo stopped in his tracks.

"Tommy...you do know I could just charge it when we get back...right?" He asked.

Tommy felt his ears get hot with embarrassment, and nudged Tubbo away. "Of course I knew that!" He said and started up towards the house again with more haste. "C'mon Tubbo, let's just...get back so we can ask Wilbur questions."

After brushing himself off, Tubbo nodded and followed Tommy along down the path. 

Sometimes Wilbur wished he could still run.

Technically he could, but it wasn't the same. He missed the excitement that came with the feeling of wind through his hair, he missed getting so excited for an idea that the only way to write it down was to sprint all the way to his room for the reward. Most of the time though, the thing he missed most was the silly little races he and his friends would do, the games of (admittedly very competitive) tag he and Techno would play as kids. As obvious as it sounded, Wilbur really just missed, if anything, the feeling of being alive.

His songs were always a little flat now, after all.

He haunted about the room that he supposedly now "shared" with Tubbo, but used to call his own. His guitar was resting against him, and though he couldn't feel it, he was grateful that it didn't just simply fall through him. He tried to play songs, little melodies strung together by his fingers plucking the chords. Something about it had never been the same since the fire, but he tried not to look at it that way. After all, it wasn't like there was anything he could do to change it.

He was pulled from his thoughts by Techno's head popping through the wall. "Incoming," He said blatantly.

Wilbur raised an eyebrow and stopped floating. "Incoming?" He asked, confused.

Not a moment later, the sound of feet slamming against the ground, and hurried voices rushing into the house and up the stairs came. "Ghostbur!" Tommy shouted, and he and Tubbo practically barreled into the room.

Techno made eye contact with Wilbur before sinking back into the wall. "Like I said," He said and his voice became muffled after he disappeared. "Incoming."

Wilbur rolled his eyes, gently setting his guitar down by the bedside. "Ghostbur?" He asked, and heard his own voice crackle through the spirit box in Tommy's hand. It seemed like they hadn't returned it to Dream yet.

"Yeah, your name is Wilbur, and you're a ghost--boom, Ghostbur," Tubbo said, walking past Tommy and over to the bed. "Now, I'm not sure...exactly where you are, but! Tommy and I found something, and we need to ask you about it."

In complete honesty, Wilbur did find himself a little surprised. The boys had actually found something? He spun around in the air, bending over backward to face the two. "I'm pretty much in front of you Tubbo," He told them. "What did you find?"

Wilbur watched as Tubbo pulled out his phone, opening it up quickly. Though, that had been the second thing the ghost noticed, making him frown. "Tubbo, what happened to your hands and knee?" He asked. "Did you fall?"

Tubbo seemed a little surprised at the question and waved it off with embarrassment. "Yeah, but it's fine--"

"He ran into someone and then ate the ground," Tommy put not so delicately.

"Tommy!" Tubbo hissed and then rolled his eyes. "Yeah, my eyeballs don't notice things sometimes, as they do. Really, it's nothing," he said, and opened up the photo. Behind him, Tommy rolled his eyes and nodded.

"Show 'im the stuff, I'll go get you a plaster or two," He said, leaving the spirit box on the desk before exiting the room.

Tubbo nodded, looking over his shoulder. "Thanks Tommy," He said and looked forward, hoping he was looking at Wilbur or at least in his direction. "We went to the library, Tommy and I started going through records and we found his," he nodded to his phone. "You won a program thing? Against Mayor Schlatt."

"The SEL Program!" Wilbur said and smiled, nodding his head. "Yeah, I remember that. It was actually really fun to do, for the most part."

Tubbo remembered Tommy reading something like that for him back at the library. "What is that though? What's The SEL Program?" He asked.

Even though it didn't really matter to Tubbo, Wilbur flipped over again so he was facing a proper direction for conversation. "Well," He started. "In my last year of college, there was this interesting position program to get involved in our town's way of government. The SEL Program was a way for students and the younger generation to get involved in politics and whatever. My friends Niki and Fundy encouraged me to sign up after I started a filibuster protest against the lunch staff one day" 

"Whoever won would be able to take a newly made position in city hall, which was pretty much being an apprentice to the current Mayor and possibly even their successor. There were debates and even campaign set ups all over the school, it actually turned out to be a tiny bit of a big deal. At any rate, eventually came the equivalent of Election Day, and to my surprise, I manages to pull it off with a forty-six percent of the voting," He explained. "I never planned on being the Mayor's successor, I just wanted to get involved in something until I knew exactly how to plan out my music career. But, I will admit that I did enjoy the time that I did have the position until," He started and stalled for a moment. "Well, you know."

Tommy had come back sometime while Wilbur was speaking, and had been bandaging Tubbo's scrapes as well as listening intently. "So you were going to give up the position anyway?" He asked.

"After a while, yes," Wilbur said. "But at the time of my death, I was still considering keeping it for a while longer."

Tubbo set his phone down when it died and nodded, thinking to himself. "And Mayor Schlatt--the current Mayor right now was your opponent, right?" He double checked, though the photo provided no doubts.

"Schlatt...yeah, he was. We used to be friends when we were kids, but I hadn't seen him for a long while at the time of the program finals. He'd moved away or something by the time we hit secondary, and when I saw him again, weeeeell...all he wanted to do was beat me no matter what," He said. "It's really not a wonder he took up the position after my death and the prior Mayor's resignation. Schlatt's probably grown into a perfect politician."

Tommy made eye contact with Tubbo and leaned over to whisper in his ear. "When he says 'no matter what', I'm pretty sure murder counts as that, right?" He asked and watched as Tubbo nodded along.

"I'm pretty sure it does, yeah. Though, don't you think he'd sound more, I dunno, shocked if he thought it had been the Mayor...?" He asked. Just as Tommy was about to add to this, a new voice joined the conversation.

"Alright kiddos, you should probably go to bed for the night," Phil's voice came through the spirit box as he floated over beside Wilbur.

Tommy furrowed his eyebrows. "Wait, what?" He asked.

"You guys have been investigating for a good part of the day, and it's past midnight already, if you hadn't noticed," The eldest ghost said as Tubbo checked his dying phone. The clock dated to almost one in the morning, and really neither of them had noticed. "You can pick it up tomorrow if you'd like, but I think you guys have had a long enough day."

"But Phil, we aren't tired," Tubbo said and shook his head.

"Doesn't matter, mate, you need the sleep. Make me ask again and I'll forcefully shut down all the electronics," He said with a little chuckle to himself. It had been a while since he'd had to do this sort of thing for anyone.

Tommy's eyes widened with realization. "You're the one that keeps shutting off the TV?" He asked, shooting a glare all around the room since he couldn't pinpoint exactly where Phil was.

"One time it was me," Wilbur said. "But otherwise, yeah. Being the "dad" is usually Phil's thing," He chuckled a little and began floating out of the room. Before he went, he stopped. "By the way...good job today. You guys really seem to care about helping us, so...thank you."

"Don't mention it," Tubbo said with a slight smile, and looked over to Tommy. "You wanna be roomies for the night?" He asked, admittedly, a little tired.

"Wait you're seriously going to sleep?" Tommy asked and rolled his eyes. "Oh Tubbo, you're so soft," He said, and suppressed a yawn. "Big men don't need things like sleep, it slows us down," He said. Tubbo smiled slightly and shook his head, walking over to the closet.

"Whatever Tommy," He said and laughed a little. "Good night."

That cut Tommy off, and he blew a raspberry in defeat. "Alright, alright," He said and headed out of the room. "Good night Tubbo," He said, grumbling slightly as he left. "Can't believe I have to go to bed thanks to an old man."

"A what?" Phil asked through the box, not upset so much as surprised at the comment. Tubbo stifled a reaction and even Techno's muffled laugh could be heard through the box.

Tommy's eyes lit up slightly and he looked to the empty air in the room. "Nothing--good night Phil!" He said, and ran to his room for the night.

Phil rolled his eyes. Those boys were certainly going to be something, he could tell that much. 

A thud against the window woke Tubbo up. One thing to having such a screwed up sleep schedule was that it made the slightest thing to wake him up even easier. Barley awake, he sat himself up a little and yawned. The window stayed closed next to the bed, and when he looked out of it, there was nothing there. Until...he could have sworn he saw something. Like a figure darting behind a tree, just slipping away. He rubbed his eyes and looked again, it seemed to be gone. It was dark outside...it couldn't have been anything. He convinced himself, no, it wasn't anything, and he laid back down in the bed.

"It was just a shadow," He mumbled to himself and yawned, closing his eyes and drifting off back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I am so sorry, again--I promise I'm working on "fully" coming back. But this is not a sappy A/N, I actually have something for you all!:
> 
> https://openspotify.com/playlist/3ttw0WVzjZfCTYd5GEAezF
> 
> Tada! I made a public Spotify playlist for Ghostie Bois! I'll gradually add more songs to it, but so far, what I have on it so far all pertains to the story one way or another, whether it be through vibes, character ties, or just straight up ambience! I hope you guys enjoy, and as always, thank you all so so much for your support <3

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is hopefully the only A/N for this story, I just wanted to give credit where it was due, and oh boy is credit deserved :)  
> The original AU was made, as said by thechannelwithoutaname, check them out! https://thechannelwithoutaname.tumblr.com/  
> And don't be afraid to search 'GhostyBoisAu' (I spelt 'ghosty' as 'ghostie', the first one is the OG tag) on tumblr or twitter or something like that, these content creators are amazing!
> 
> Also, the original version of this story is up on my wattpad channel, so that might be updated before this one. I'm trying to keep chapter updates to a new upload 1-8 days after the last chapter upload :)
> 
> Anyway, I hope everyone has a great day or night! <3


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